


Unbound

by velociraptors



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Porn, Canon Compliant, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Game Spoilers, M/M, Male Slash, POV Alternating, Porn With Plot, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:46:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 84,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9329774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velociraptors/pseuds/velociraptors
Summary: Lots of game spoilers contained within. A look at how Gladio and Noctis' relationship with one another evolves before, during, and after events from the game.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Orchidias](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orchidias/gifts).



> Dedicated as a gift to Orchidias. Many thanks for being the first to read it and hopefully not hate it. This was mostly because there was so little GladNoct in the world, which made me sad, so I wanted to write a whole lot to compensate. There's a flimsy plot holding the whole fic together, but mostly, this is still 80% porn. I hope you enjoy it!

**001.**

 

Though they've met before, it's only days after that they first exchange words. To Noctis, Gladio is an imposing figure even at his young age, his body casting a shadow over him while Noctis cranes his head upwards to stare him in the eyes before his own gaze shifts away, caresses the floor to avoid the scrutiny. Up until then, the only person even close to his age that he had around the citadel had been Ignis, but Ignis is the very model of composure where this boy is raw emotion, overflowing from the onset in a painfully discernible matter. And what Noctis reads behind his expression is a mixture of instant disgust and disappointment, like he might as well have been told he'd be training a cockroach instead of a prince. It's difficult not to flinch under the weight of his stare, exercising effort to hold his back straight and shoulders squared when his whole countenance wants to shift and contort away, but there are other eyes on him -those of the proud men and women in his father's Crownsguard. Running away is never a luxury in these situations, and he awaits Gladio's formal introduction like a prisoner being sentenced to death.

"-and Gladiolus Amicitia, the first born son of the Amicitia family, the ordained shields of the Lucis Caelum family, shall be with you, day in and day out, molding you into a warrior befitting of the Lucis Caelum name. He will train you on all armed and unarmed combat where as I will take it upon myself to assist you with your magic lessons." 

His father's words give him no comfort under the weight of Gladio's vitriol spilling forward, crashing into him and reminding him that he's never held a sword in his life. He never thought he would have to at this age, but the scars all over his body say otherwise. He'd already been targeted for death once, left nearly shredded on the ground until he had to learn how to walk and function again. The memories of that pain had been some consolation for the fact that he could no longer remember the names and faces of those who had died protecting him. Even the servant whose body had been a heavy weight across his back -her face had just vanished entirely when he'd woken up, though he was told that was a side-effect of the trauma. 

Every now and then, he still fears being immobile -still wakes up thinking his legs won't move or listen to him and that his back would still be freshly bleeding. The phantom scent of it would feel too new and visceral to him until he'd situate himself in the present once more, recalling that he had been saved after all even if he doesn't necessarily think it's a miracle. What kind of miracle would result in so many people dying at once? 

His thoughts are dragged back to the present moment, only catching the muffled end of Gladio's words.

"-promise to serve you and protect you from this day forward, Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, as my duty." 

Blinking slowly, he tries to acknowledge the other boy through the confusing haze of formalities while pondering what he _should_ say in this situation. There is probably a stock answer he should have memorized by now, something proper and diplomatic, but he can't think of it at all with so many eyes bearing down on the two of them. He can only feel the telltale heat climbing along the sides of his neck as he struggles internally before nodding.

"Uh... okay," is all he can manage, and he can tell by his father's amused expression that that had been the wrong thing to say completely. 

Gladio doesn't react verbally, but his eyes narrow slightly, wrinkles appearing on his forehead around where his brows tersely push inwards. There's annoyance behind that expression, edging its way to get out and remaining barely contained when the older boy carries himself out of the room. Noctis can't help feel guilty for having already disappointed him with a single world... two if he wants to be generous with himself, though he knows his own appearance is wholly unimpressive. He's still a child in all respects of the word no matter how much his near-death experience had left him feeling otherwise, but there's already the pressure to grow up fast -to resemble his father, to carry himself with the same dignity and grace that he feels is impossible to achieve because he doesn't know if he _can_ be that person, if he'll _ever_ be that person. 

With that business taken care of, Noctis is dismissed, though each one of his own steps sounds too loud and painful to his own ears, hearing the way the soles of his sneakers squeak across the pristine marble floors. All the bodies around him are too tall like Gladio's, too imposing, like giant pillars that can come tumbling down over him at any second, and the weight of the ceiling would just crush him into pieces after. It bids him to leave quickly, escape the claustrophobic walls of the citadel, though outside is just as absent of the sounds of other children laughing or the gentle timber of dogs barking in the background like there had been in Tenebrae. The quiet stillness rarely offers him any comfort because of that, but it's still better than constantly being surrounded by people and being unable to escape. The fresh breeze makes up for it, but he also longs for the scent of sylleblossoms being carried by it, craving that nostalgic aroma to lure him into some sense of peacefulness. Anything to stay away from his burden a little while longer, but reality is always a train crashing straight into him head on. 

The very next day, he begins his lessons with Gladio, who's forceful and impatient, reprimanding him for the slightest misstep. His voice strikes him like a whip lash, making him tense up each time, and he feels his own palms grow sweaty around the wooden sword as Gladio's larger hands adjust it in his grip once more.

"I've told you already how to hold it. Why can't you remember?" 

"I _know_!" he snaps back because the constant drilling is getting to him.

They're in the outdoor training area of the Citadel, and the heat is bearing down on them mercilessly. On top of that, he hasn't eaten much since the grapefruit he'd been forced to treat as his breakfast, the sensation of hunger digging into his stomach like a metal spoon scraping along the inside of it again and again. It's difficult to focus beneath the rumbling pangs, and each time his stomach growls louder, Gladio shoots him a renewed glare like he should have more control over his body -like it physically disgusts him to see any form of weakness coming from him, involuntary or otherwise.

Noctis tries to cover up the sound by scuffing his shoes through the grass and moving noisily over it, but that just makes Gladio more annoyed.

"If you move like that, you'll announce every enemy around you where you are. Stay light on your feet." 

A swift smack of Gladio's wooden sword resounds against his calf, the impact nearly causing him to lose his footing entirely, but he stubbornly refuses to fall down in front of him. If anything, that would justify too much of Gladio's derision, and he doesn't want to be looked at with those impatient eyes anymore. 

The next lessons after become more brutal -utterly unforgiving. Noctis' body blooms fresh new bruises everywhere Gladio's sword smacks against him, painting his skin all sorts of hues that he stares at wordlessly before bathing. He doesn't let Ignis assist him with dressing any longer and starts to wear longer sleeves and socks when he can. The only hint of flesh peaks out from the bottom of his shorts to where his socks begin, but he swallows down his complaints, knowing the only road to strength is pain. The faces of all those people who died for him that day grow more distant until the night falls. That's when he relives their screams, that's when the weight on his back seems heaviest. By morning light, he's always left breathless, made to run around the citadel until his legs burn then drilled into push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups. His whole body becomes intimately familiar with pain, but he can also feel the hardness around his biceps, the way all his baby fat starts to tighten into muscle, and how easier over time it becomes to maneuver a sword longer than his arm. 

By the time a year has passed, his movements have become smoother, moving over their battlegrounds like he'd been born onto them, managing to parry some of Gladio's movements, though he can tell the older boy is holding back by the tension in his shoulders. If he fought him at full strength, he'd lose, but that doesn't stop Noctis from asking for it directly.

"I want you to stop holding back," he orders, and Gladio gives him the first thing he's ever seen resembling a smile from him.

But it's not gentle or amused. There's derision curled around his lips as his eyes move down his body fast. 

"I'll only hurt you like that." 

He knows. _He knows._ Noctis' teeth clench together, and his hands tighten around the wooden sword in his hand, uncaring. He repeats in his mind that he'll never get stronger unless he loses first and loses _badly._

"I won't lose this time." 

It's a lie because he knows before he's even started that he's already lost, and with a nod, Gladio comes at him, accepting his proposal. The way he moves is absolutely brutal, charging at him like a bull and changing the direction of his wooden sword to slam the pommel of it straight into his gut. The impact happens before Noctis can even think to dodge, feet rooted to the ground by fear and simple lack of preparedness, and it feels like all the tissue that stretches across his stomach is being ripped apart at once as his smaller body flies back on the ground. 

The sky overhead spins for a while, leaving him blinking up blearily at it as he tries to breathe, but every inhalation inspires a fresh new wave of pain from his midsection. He's so sick that he wants to empty out his breakfast onto the ground, but he can't bring himself to move at all and the bile just sticks unpleasantly to the back of his throat. His wooden sword lies hapless on the ground next to him, a testament to the fact that he didn't even raise it to defend himself at all. He'd been frozen since the very start. 

"Pathetic," Gladio murmurs under his breath, his body appearing in his peripheral before the tip of his boot nudges him in the rib cage. 

Even that minor action makes him wince from the pain before he tries to roll over and push himself back up from the ground. To his surprise, Gladio extends a hand to him to help him up though he can tell he's doing so begrudgingly. Because he's the prince. Because there's _protocol._ Because he has no choice but to honor him, protect him, and look after him even if his heart isn't into it at all. Noctis doesn't need a single word to confirm it, already aware that Gladio would rather fight for his father than him -everyone in the Crownsguard would.

And that sinking realization twists something inside of him into a painful knot, unsure if he'll ever be worthy of anyone's respect. 

_'How many people died for a prince they wouldn't willingly serve...'_

Those words flow unbidden through his mind as he tries to blink away the hot tears that prick at the back of his eyes. If he cries now in front of him, he feels like he'd never be able to make Gladio stop hating him. 

"Again," Gladio finally says to break the stretched out silence between them, and Noctis feels his legs weighing down heavier than ever, moving them at a sloth-like pace until he's in position again. He knows the next impact is going to be tougher than the first but feels utterly useless in defending himself from it. All he can do is brace for it.

That evening, he sleeps with a warm water pad resting over his stomach, new bruises flourishing over the surface of his skin, reminding him avidly of the blows he couldn't avoid. The pain follows him into his dreams, feeling held down and crushed by Gladio's disapproving gaze, unable to escape the many rooms where his eyes decorate the walls all over, and the Citadel becomes more claustrophobic than ever, compressing him in between until he loses the ability to breathe completely. He wakes up hyperventilating and covered in a thick layer of sweat, the sheets below and around him damp with it, and Ignis is the one who brings him tea to calm him and who quietly collects his clothes and sheets after to wash away all the sweat while Noctis foregoes sleep for the rest of the night. He's afraid to meet Gladio's stare that morning, walking everywhere with his eyes to the ground and barely responding to his name being called. He also informs the servants that he won't be going to training that day, instead hiding in the family library amid the pile of picture books, all filled with beautiful gilded illustrations of the constellations. He knows he's just running away at this point but also takes comfort in the solitude, clinging to it until his father reprimands him for neglecting his lessons and making Gladio come all this way after school only to be turned away by a servant. 

Even with an apology falling quietly from his lips, Noctis feels no real guilt. Some days, he just wants to escape. It's that plain and simple. 

 

 **002.**

 

At fourteen years old, Noctis feels the ache of his bones growing past their old limit, stretching as far as his skin would allow them. Every morning brings a new soreness that drags from his neck down to his feet, and the face he'd gotten used to seeing in the mirror looks more and more distorted. Around him, his classmates grow too, wear acne like war wounds and metal around their teeth when they smile. In gym, the other boys start to tower further and further until he's constantly looking upwards, feeling dwarfed when they gather around him and start prodding him about having a girlfriend yet or a fiancee. Does he only have to marry royalty? Does he have models going after him? Movie stars? 

The more they ask, the less normal he feels because he hasn't ever really given any of those things much thought, yet. Yes, marriage and producing heirs is something he knows he'd have to do, but it's always felt like a concern for his future self when he's not as busy trying to pass his exams and avoiding getting flattened by his so-called 'Shield' after school. The fact that that becomes the only thing that all the boys around him can talk about does make him feel more at odds with them than ever -in a way being born into royalty hadn't even accounted for. At least, in grade school everyone was interested in trading cards, the latest Justice Monsters action figures, or the newest shiny console to be released. Now, he's left being the only one who does care about those sort of things and even has a giant shrine to his action figures in the corner of his room that he's left Ignis in charge of preserving and polishing.

His female classmates have also started acting differently around him, barely able to meet his eyes or even talk to him. The ones that do, stammer or dance around words before offering to study with him or trying to invite him on group dates. He always turns down the offers because he already has one overbearing tutor bugging him all the time, and he's not one for a lot of group activities, especially with classmates whose names he can barely remember. He knows he should make the effort to socialize and get in everyone's good graces, but he's never really had his father's knack for diplomacy. He also has a busy enough schedule what with trying to fit in fourteen hours of sleep into his day, something that Ignis constantly objects to, and he wishes he could replace some of his extracurriculars with straight up fishing. Too bad there's no angler's club at all in middle school, but he does find time to do it on the weekends when he manages to slither out of his intense training regimen long enough.

Gladio's been extra vigilant about him slacking off ever since he started to learn how to warp strike, and truthfully, he hates the sensation of it completely. His whole body tearing itself up then reconstructing itself in nanoseconds... that sickening weightless sensation -like all the flesh is being stripped off of him and his insides have become indiscernible from air. Afterwards, he always feels unbearably nauseous, the toll leaving him more mentally and physically exhausted than anything he's ever done, and Gladio has been pushing him to warp higher each time, to keep defying every law of physics and biology that his school books claim is impossible. 

He almost wishes his primary concern in life was getting a girlfriend -envies everyone around him who's never had to brutalize their body for an entire afternoon then wake up bright and early the next morning to try and pass a math test. It's not like he even has the luxury of failing. A prince with bad grades is practically unheard of in this day and age with the best tutors and technology at his disposal, and he knows there's always stories in the papers about him -what he's wearing, what he does after school, who he spends his time with. With his every action under a microscope, he doesn't find much time anymore to breathe, missing the quiet corners of the Citadel he used to burrow himself into when he needed to hide.

The last few days of middle school are filled with grueling exams in between visits to the Citadel training grounds leaving him watching each blade that flies out of his hand land higher and higher along the Citadel's outer walls. When he looks down and sees how far he might plummet, his stomach immediately cinches inwards so fast that he can feel food climbing up his esophagus, and his head spins in place, the atmosphere around him blurred into sloppy lines and colors until he has to let go and fall, only narrowly scraping out of harm's way with another clumsy warp strike to avoid death. Gladio always studies his descents with carefully scrutiny, eyes roving over his form quickly before his large hand lands on his back, and Noctis knows it's the only nurturing response he's going to get from him, feeling the smooth crawl of his palm in slow circles that coaxes him to start retching uncontrollably. 

"You're going to have to learn to do that eventually without puking all over your own shoes," he reminds him. 

Noctis manages a glare between sweat-laden bangs, spitting out the last of the bile before wiping his lips in annoyance. He'd managed to get higher that time without question, but he still can't take the sheer vertigo of it nor the way fear and his natural born instincts start to war with one another, fighting for dominance. His head's left a clouded mess, and he's not sure how to keep calm and graceful when he's floating so far up in the air. 

"Easy for you to say," he finally replies, and his throat aches so much when he tries to swallow, "you're not the one hanging thirty feet up in the air." 

"Twenty seven," Gladio corrects, "and that's still nothing. I've seen guys in the Kingsglaive who can warp up to fifty feet without flinching. It's in your blood, Noct." 

Therefore it should come naturally to him. That's the implication of that statement, but Noctis doesn't think it's that simple. There's a lot of things that _should_ come natural to him that he ends up struggling with. 

His body shakes a little as he stands up once more to try again, though the toll taken out on him already feels like more than he can bear. He can hardly remain steady at all, and his eyes move to catch Gladio's who gives him a swift nod in response. This time, he tries to aim for that thirty foot marker, feeling his skin seemingly dissolve around him, swimming through the weightless air until he becomes part of the fabric of it, and he sees his goal, sees where he needs to land -but he's a few centimeters off, fingers sliding off the pommel of the sword before he starts to plummet too fast. His eyes squeeze shut, hand groping down his leg to pull out a small dagger that he keeps there for training emergencies and using that to suddenly pivot and warp to the ground safely before he can end up shattered all across it. With his balance off completely on the landing, he nearly crashes into the ground until Gladio's arm sweeps out underneath him, swiftly catching his body in his tight grip.

The entire length of his arm remains wrapped around his torso, supporting his weight for a moment that feels like it lasts an eternity as Gladio roughly pulls him back to his chest, and he feels his hand plant against his stomach after, the heat of his palm spreading across his skin through the thin fabric of his training top in a way that makes him want to twist into the touch instead of away, which is what his usual instinct dictates. He mostly attests it to the death-defying fall, the rush of anxiety and terror crashing into him all at once, and he's grateful for the physical support but also can't bring himself to speak his gratitude out aloud when his breaths are spilling out of him so fast. 

Every nerve in his body is left vibrating in place beneath his skin, the sensation thrumming through him leaving in a powerful daze while he struggles to collect himself, but there's more heat drawn across his back, bleeding through him everywhere Gladio touches him. It makes him rapidly grow hyper-aware of their closeness, of the hot air brushing the back of his neck from where he exhales and the way Gladio's fingers have curled at the tips around his abdomen, scraping ever so slightly against the lean muscles there. 

"Do I have to say it-?" 

"Don't," Noctis cuts him off, already what words are lingering on the tip of his tongue.

"-not even close to thirty-" 

"I know, I know. Slipped in the last second. Are you going to harp on that now?" 

Can't he just be glad he didn't end up with his spine broken? He knows he's just trying to push him to reach past his own limits and to fulfill his potential, but even Noctis isn't entirely confident he can reach that high up, yet. The fear is what draws him back, causes him to expend too much mana before he's even fully warped anywhere to the top, and when he runs out of mana, he tends to …well, fall. 

Gladio's body withdraws completely once he's made sure he's standing steady on his own, and Noctis feels too instantly aware of the absence of heat, his stomach distinctly bearing the remnant tingling of where Gladio's fingers had dug into a moment ago, and his own hand unconsciously swipes across the same area, trying to reason with himself why any of it even leaves an impression. Gladio's touched him before lots of times -mostly to hit him. Rarely ever to actually save him. Maybe that's why it feels weird. 

He tries to casually brush the matter aside and will his heart rate to slow down as he steps back. The sun is still beating down on the both of them, reminding them that the afternoon is young, and he knows Gladio isn't going to let him off early no matter how many times he throws up on the ground. It's a painful realization that circles around his brain as he stares at the same spot thirty feet up high in the air. 

It takes him ten more painful tries before he finally makes it, his whole body jolting towards the sword and fingers narrowly scraping over the hilt until he stubbornly grabs it, willing himself to stay there, and he finds, as he hangs in that very spot, that the view isn't so bad from this high. Still horrifying when he looks down, but when he looks out across, he can see the horizon far outward and feel the wind as it idly ruffles his hair, the first breeze he's felt in a while. 

Getting down is another matter entirely when he plucks the sword out and tries to warp to a spot midway, missing it by at least a foot and ending up latching onto a tree. His fingers barely hold onto the branches, feeling the twigs scrape angrily along his palms before he warps himself to the ground. There's blood already dribbling from the cuts, and Gladio shakes his head like he's exasperated, though all he's done is watch and yell at him for hours. What right does he have to complain? 

"Tell Ignis to clean and wrap those up for you." 

"It's fine," he responds instantly, brushing the blood off on his shirt without a second thought until Gladio suddenly grabs his wrists and yanks them in between the two of them. 

"Stop being a pain in the ass for two seconds and get cleaned up." 

The grip is surprisingly gentle in contrast to the stinging sensation radiating up his palms to his finger tips, and they remain held hostage in Gladio's hands for a little longer. His body temperature always feels so much higher than his own for some reason, a feat he chalks up to Gladio's sheer size, and gazing up at his face right in front of his own now makes him feel smaller than he's ever had in front of him. While Gladio's been growing upwards and outwards by the week, he's been lagging behind in more ways than one, struggling to keep up. Reasonably, Gladio's got three years on him, so it shouldn't bother him, but the breadth between their abilities is closer to ten years at this point. 

He hates disappointing him so often but also hasn't figured out yet how to climb over the giant wall that is his own personal limitations. The end result is just this… blood on his hands. Not always so literally, but he knows the more he fails to get stronger, the more people will have to continue to die all around him -die _because_ of him. Even six years after the accident, he can't erase the feeling of having had his servant cover him like a death shroud, the weight of her still body grafted thickly onto his skin. Not just her but the bodyguards who had been riding in the car with him, all twisted mangled up bodies strewn around in no particular pattern. It's the scent of their fresh corpses, blank eyes and blurry faces, the contorted limbs his nightmares won't ever let him forget. 

When Gladio's hands finally withdraw from him, his skin feels the absence too prominently again, the grievous loss of warmth that reminds him just how hot Gladio had felt moments ago. The emptiness sits stagnantly over his skin where he gently flexes his fingers before nodding solemnly. With that, training ends, and Ignis is gentle and careful later that night while he wraps his hands up with medical tape. His own eyes follow the upper ridge of his glasses where they slip ever so slightly down the bridge of his nose before Ignis nudges them back up again.

"Gladio said you were improving." 

He almost feels a little relieved hearing that before Ignis adds, "-minutely." 

That word makes him snort quietly from his nose, not surprised. Since when has Gladio ever given him a sincere compliment? He'd think it were a fevered dream if he ever did. 

"I'll get it down just so he can quit his complaining." 

The bandages are tightened more securely around his hands before Ignis stands up, and he feels his long, elegant fingers lightly move over his hair -a comforting gesture, he assumes, though it's rare for Ignis to ever instigate anything like that. 

"I know you will," he concedes quietly, leaving him with those words. That unwavering confidence. 

It may very well be the first time anyone's expressed anything like that towards him. He doesn't know why, but it makes him sob dryly into his bandaged hands later that night, releasing the day's frustration while he's alone -where he can curse and bite out words, letting them echo off the walls in his room until he's too tired. Until he blacks out and falls into a dreamless sleep. 

 

**003.**

 

Noctis turns fifteen with no fanfare and just in time to start school where he still feels like he sticks out sorely from all his classmates, but the locker room talk is covered by Prompto excitedly chatting next to him about his high scores in King's Knight and offering to trade cards with him over the phone. It's the perfect background noise, easy to lose himself to while changing, and he finds himself smiling a little more these days, relearning how to mold those muscles into a gentle curve that always fades fast at the end of the school day. Alone in his apartment, he's left to the burgeoning thoughts of his father's health, the endless news reports that scroll before his eyes and the succinct daily summaries shared by Ignis while he makes dinner. 

Each day always passes by quicker than the next, and his hands grow rougher, new calluses blossoming over his skin with the heavier weapons that adorn his grip. A dagger turns into a rapier that turns into a katana that turns into a spatha that turns into an axe then a scimitar then a cutlass, a halberd, a lance, a great sword… the list never ends, forcing himself to master them all because he has no other choice. The arms of the royal family are vast and of equal power each. To neglect any would be a grievous miscalculation, though he has trouble adjusting to the weight and size of each, picking out which one would be most useful for any situation. Worst of all, he still can't effectively keep more than one in his arsenal no matter how hard he tries. He's only been able to absorb a single one, a short sword that he can at least warp strike around with little trouble, but it's a nameless meaningless sword -a piteous, undignified one he'd only grown fond of because it's saved him so many times. 

Controlling his arsenal is a major ability of the royal family, something just as inscribed into his blood as warping, and he tries to focus on developing the ability in his off time even if the end result is him absorbing a kitchen knife. At least, it'd be something, but even so, he just can't do it. It grows frustrating by the day as Gladio takes him through the steps, dances with him over the training grounds and vigorously attacks him with a different weapon each day. Naturally, he always loses every spar, ending up with new bruises to decorate his arms when the weapons are knocked loose of his grip before he's forced to concede defeat. Fortunately, he's gotten used to wearing sleeves by now and has learned to undress quickly under the veil of Prompto's chatter, glad his friend's never bothered to ask much about them. 

He enjoys the lack of complication with him, the ease with which they settle into each other's orbit as they move through the school day. The serenity almost seems to lull him into a false sense of security, growing attached to a bit of normalcy while at school before the bubble bursts when Ignis meets him at the gates to drive him to training each day. 

The afternoon heat is never forgiving then, the sun licking all across his skin as he's dropped off in front of the Citadel where Gladio always waits except for the one day he doesn't. It catches him off-guard to be the one left standing around, his fingers around his school bag as he stares at the empty space before him. 

"He called," Ignis says from behind, quietly interrupting his staring session with the ground, "he said he's running late."

"Did he say why?" Noctis asks, fingers latching tighter around his bag, though he shouldn't be bothered. Gladio has his own life obviously. Why wouldn't he be late sometimes? 

"Picking up his girlfriend from work. He mentioned her car was in the shop for repairs."

A noncommittal sound is loosened from his own lips, unsure what he'd been expecting. Definitely not that. Gladio had never mentioned having a girlfriend before, though it's not like they ever talk about anything particularly personal. Likewise, he's never asked him if he does, but why would he? They hadn't really hung out much outside of training and the occasional bite to eat away from the Citadel, but even those were brief and fleeting. When they did talk, it was always about training, weapons, Iris, or fishing. Very little else. Only a few times did Gladio ask him about his dad, but he'd learned early on not to pry about that. Noctis had never much felt on elaborating when it came to the king.

It shouldn't matter to him what Gladio does outside of training anyway, unsure why he's even thinking about it now except that he's not used to being the one left waiting. After a lifetime of people constantly rushing to his behest, he probably deserves it, but it doesn't make it any more pleasant to deal with as his fingers drum over his thigh. Several topics drift to his mind before he settles on wondering what type of girl Gladio would even go out with. He's never introduced him to a single one, though Noctis doubts this one would be the first or the last. She's probably an outdoors type of girl like him -definitely sporty and fit. Smart, too, since Gladio doesn't exactly suffer fools willingly. 

He could picture the type just well enough before scrubbing the mental image loose from his brain. He only gives Gladio an hour before he leaves the Citadel completely and skips out on practice for the day to head to the arcade. Each fake punch his character deliver feels more gratifying than the next, watching him pummel on a lizard beast and decorate the stadium with blood. His hands glide effortlessly over the buttons and joystick, eyes transfixed on the screen until the afternoon hours quickly dissolve into evening, and his eyes half-slide shut, sleepiness wrapping around him like a warm blanket as he plucks his final ticket count from the machine. It's probably enough to get something really fancy, but he holds off on it for now, stuffing them into his jacket. 

When he checks his phone, there are four messages from Ignis. Not a single one from Gladio. 

Something burrows itself into the pit of his stomach, an unnamed feeling that he tries to ignore as he walks home. He skips dinner completely before passing out on the couch, unsure why his body feels so heavy when he hadn't worked out at all the day. He chalks it up to school in general, too many upcoming exams, too many party invites thrust into him from hopeful classmates, too many lectures drilled into his head that make him wonder whether or not any of them have any meaning in the long run. 

When he returns to the Citadel the next day, he can tell before he arrives that Gladio is upset with him, arms crossed over his chest while his gaze pins him firmly to the ground, but Noctis pretends not to notice as he brushes passed him. He thinks he's almost in the clear when an arm reaches out abruptly, curling around his stomach to push him back in place. 

"Not even an apology out of you?" 

"I had to go home and study," Noctis offers as his 'apology.'

Gladio can pick up the lie right away and doesn't loosen his grip around his midsection, keeping him trapped as he looms over him. Even though Noctis had gained another few inches from his latest growth spurt, he still finds himself having to crane his head to look up at the other teen, a fact that still irritates him because it's difficult to look imposing when he's chin-height to him, and Gladio never seems to stop getting larger every time he sees him. Some would say it's an ideal trait for a human shield, but Noctis doesn't want to ever have to feel his weight over him, to smell Gladio's blood all around him, to watch him get torn up on his behalf from another rampaging daemon.

The memory hits him so suddenly and ferociously that he has to jolt back just to put distance between them while his head whirls in place, and he can't breathe well when he's being locked in like this, given no room to run and escape. 

"I didn't hear you apologize for being late, either," he suddenly hisses with a rising rancor, eager to blot over the thoughts in his head quickly. He'd rather pick a fight then let Gladio know he's still harboring an ancient terror that constantly lurks around in his head.

It works a little too well when Gladio shoves him back, lips pulled back over his teeth like he wants to growl but the sound never comes out. 

"Had a personal matter to attend to. That's no excuse for you to skip out on training." 

His back turns just to grab the two wooden swords he had set up near his gym bag, and he shoves one so hard against his chest that Noctis can almost swear he's trying to crack one of his ribs through sheer force. The ache is nothing compared to the flames practically shooting out of Gladio's eyes when he stares down at him.

"When are you going to start taking this seriously?" he asks as though Noctis hasn't been trying to this entire time. 

Had it really come off like he was slacking off? Maybe in some respects he had been, but the times when he'd really been trying, he'd also felt incapacitated by fear, which is starting to feel like an entirely foreign concept to Gladio. 

But he knows that's impossible. Even he must be afraid of something -no, he already knows what he's afraid of. He'd seen how he reacted that day when Iris had disappeared from his sight. 

_Losing those important to him._

It's a sentiment he wholeheartedly sympathizes with, and ultimately, that helps him relax just a bit when he feels like it'd be too easy to be goaded into a full on fight with Gladio right now. His shoulders sag as he wraps his fingers around one of the wooden blades and steps back. Though his eyes don't meet Gladio's this time, he can tell the mood between them is already changing, the tension dissipating enough for him to realize he probably should have waited yesterday evening. What had even gotten so deeply under his skin? Gladio's allowed to have his own personal matters to deal with, and he shouldn't be holding it against him. He's not the most important thing in Gladio's life. 

"Is your girlfriend okay?" he suddenly asks, wincing at how awkward and abrupt the question comes out considering what they'd been talking about before, but he should make at least some effort to be more invested in the personal lives of those in his service. 

Gladio blinks at him in surprise, also taken aback by the sudden question. He doesn't look upset about it, though, which is some form of progress, and Noctis can see the rigidity in his shoulders lessening. "Yeah, managed to get her to practice on time."

"Practice? For what?" 

The questions come loose without much prodding from his brain, though Noctis can't say he's particularly curious about her. It's more like he wants to affirm his assumptions from yesterday about Gladio's type, but he's not even sure why it matters. If Gladio's happy, then he's happy. It really doesn't affect him much.

"Dance practice," he replies before motioning Noctis to follow as he walks towards the Citadel's training grounds. 

That afternoon, Noctis learns that her name is Alya, a high school senior with top grades, described as 'perky and cute.' Nothing further is mentioned about her physical appearance, but he assumes she must be pretty anyway by how Gladio talks about her. He's never seen him look smitten before, and no matter how casual he's being about, he can see she's important to him. 

Noctis also fights harder than he ever has, swinging his sword around with brute force that could almost be considered reckless as he drives the tip of it into Gladio's until the sides of it splinter and break. He's left picking all the pieces from the ground, thinking Gladio will be upset by his actions, but when he looks up, he catches him grinning instead.

A single hand drops to the top of his head, ruffling his hair in a playful manner, and again, Noctis feels too small in Gladio's palm, still very much like a child in front of him.

"Now, that's more like it. Maybe I should piss you off more often if this is how you react." 

He's… actually proud? Well, as proud as Gladio can ever get towards him. Noctis tries to quickly squash down the minute elation bubbling up from his stomach, unable to remember even the last time his own father congratulated him at something. He's usually apologizing on his behalf instead. It does feel good, and he leans into the weight of his hand without thinking as his eyes meet Gladio's through the sweat-soaked hair in his face. 

"Maybe you just let your guard down while talking about girls. Now, I know your weakness," Noctis teases back, and that compels Gladio to suddenly grab him in a headlock as the gentle ruffling turns into a harsh rapping across his head with his knuckles, drilling into his scalp while he's held captive.

"Ow, ow, ow!! Stop that!" 

"What were you saying about my weakness?" 

Gladio's arm tightens around his neck, holding him captive still while he feebly tugs at Gladio's iron tight grip. "Maybe if you ever reach puberty," he continues, "you'll understand." 

To his relief, the older teen releases him right after, though he can tell his hair is going in fifty different directions from the abuse, a fact he tries to ameliorate by finger-combing the strands downwards. The verbal dig bothers him more than the residual ache on his throat, but he lets it slide, unsure what to really say about it. He hasn't given girls much thought mostly because he still isn't sure what kind of thoughts he's supposed to have them, though being around Prompto does give him some sort of idea. 

Smelling them, touching them, lingering near them… it doesn't exactly sound like the most appealing way to spend his time, but he does like the quiet memories he has of Luna's smile and remembers all too well the bright shade of her hair. Seven years hasn't let him forget the picture in his mind of her, but he doesn't know if it's the same way Gladio feels about his girlfriend or how Prompto feels about half the girls in his class. He really hasn't stopped to think about it at all, and even now, he files it away quickly for later consideration, intent on getting something to eat first. 

The two of them part on better terms that evening, enough that Noctis feels like he can sleep well that night for once. Lying on his back across his too large mattress, his eyes trace over the ceiling while his fingers touch over his bare stomach. He has a faded scar between his abdominal muscles from where Gladio had pushed his practice sword too forcefully years ago, but whenever he thinks about that moment, rather than remembering the pain it caused, he remembers the warm tread of fingers that crawled over that same spot years after, every single caress grafted deeply in his skin, the sensation constantly spreading outwards like a growing web that starts to cover his lungs and thighs at the same time. His fingers absently brush lower, trailing between his legs, and shakily touch over the bulk of awakened nerve endings all bristling beneath his skin, and it feels good for a few seconds to tease himself, to roll across the outline of his dick pressed to the fabric of his sweats and hear his own breaths grow more shallow before his brain kicks into gear. 

_'This is wrong,'_ he repeats in his mind like a deranged litany, and he forces his fingers to withdraw instead shoving them beneath the pillowcase as he curls up on one side and clenches his eyes shut tight as though that could somehow rip apart the picture already forming too clearly in his head. He doesn't want to try and understand what he's feeling right now, instead forcing his mind to circle around school lessons from earlier that day, every listless equation he can think of until he's being pulled deeper into his dreams. 

 

**004.**

 

School's been bustling with more activity than usual, the students crowded around the desk of some girl Noctis had only ever spoken to once just to ask for an eraser. He assumes she's really popular just by the amount of people clamoring for an invitation to her sweet sixteen, the self-proclaimed 'party of the century.' The only parties Noctis had ever attended before had been official functions held by the crown, but it doesn't stop all his classmates from inviting him to theirs regardless of whether or not he's actually ever interacted with any of them. It must be some sort of formality, which is why he doesn't question it when the girl -Nell? Corrin? Marla?- comes up to him to hand him in an invitation, and Prompto's staring slack-jawed at him like he'd just been handed a gilded chocobo.

"No. Way!" 

And the invitation is snatched loose from his fingers before he can read the name on it, leaving it a mystery whose party he's even invited to. Not that it matters. He has no intention of going, no matter how excited Prompto looks tearing open the invitation and pointing at the elegant calligraphy.

"Oh, come on, don't tell me you're throwing this one out, too? I can be your plus one!" 

Is he really that predictable? His eyes shift around to make sure no one heard his outburst before ducking his head slightly. A part of him feels bad about not making many efforts to hang around with the other students at school, but at the same time, he's sure if he wasn't royalty, he'd largely be ignored by them. If anyone had any real interest in him, they'd make more of an effort themselves to talk to him about something other than how much money he has or how many cars his father owns or whatever. 

As it is, he's fine just having Prompto around even if he wants to stuff the invitation into his mouth for all he's harping on it at the moment. 

"I'm not going _or_ taking you as a date." 

Prompto's face falls into a comical pout as he taps the corner of the invitation against his nose. 

"Wouldn't kill you to actually go, and I would be the perfect date thank you very much. I'd even hold the door for you and everything, _Your Highness_." 

He gives him a flourish of a bow that makes Noctis want to sink back further in his seat as a few heads turn their way. That finally prompts him to grab the invitation back hastily - _is her name really Kaley?_ He hadn't even been close. 

"I can get my own door, you know," he mutters in return, only sounding mildly indignant, "I'll think about it." 

Though he feels like he's already sealed his fate when Prompto smiles at him the same way as if he'd told him he found a box of puppies on the street. It's really hard to turn him down sometimes -all the time, if he's honest with himself-, and he knows Prompto's always wanted to go to one of these things. He thinks if he didn't scare off all the girls he tries to talk to with his awkward flirting, he might even actually get an invitation himself instead of having to use him. 

It's a small price to pay, and Noctis hands the invitation to Ignis later that evening before telling him they need to pick up Prompto, too. Ignis' eyebrows rise elegantly as he reads the invitation before asking, "Does your father know?"

"No, why would I tell him?" 

It seems a little too insignificant to bother the King of Lucis with. He's got trade deals and border patrols to deal with. 

"This is a night club in a rather boisterous part of the city."

Is it? He hadn't read much of the invitation, a fact that he's now starting to regret. 

"Your point?" 

"It might be prudent to take your bodyguard with you." 

Now, it's his turn to look shocked as he regards Ignis incredulously. 

"What? _Gladio?_ No way! What's he going to do aside from stand around all night and stare? We can take care of ourselves just fine." 

"It's not the two of you I am worried about." 

He gives him a cryptic look before fixing his glasses, nudging them higher up his nose. There's something lingering on his tongue that remains unspoken, a niggling fact that Noctis wants to pry out, but the answer might not be something he wants to hear.

"You think there are rebels around that part of town… " 

It's no secret that a lot of foreigners who'd flocked to Insomnia after the wall was reduced weren't exactly pleased with his grandfather's choice, and his father had inherited the fall-out from it for years after. He'd been briefed a few times about the dissenters, but their city's guard have been pretty effective at stamping them out fast before they could cause enough damage and violence. As it is, Noctis hasn't had much of an opportunity to come to close to any of them, but he also doesn't travel alone very often. If Ignis isn't with him, then usually Gladio follows him around or Prompto. 

"Still think we'll be fine. Just drop us off a block away."

Ignis objects right away. 

"It'll put your father at ease if you had Gladio with you." 

He doesn't say it, but Noctis knows that means he'll tell his father. Then his father will order Gladio to go with him anyway, so it's a loss either way. He shouldn't have said anything to Ignis at all, internally kicking himself while snatching the invitation back. 

"Fine," he concedes, but he's about as happy with that fact as he is to stub his toe on furniture. 

If being prince hadn't been alienating enough, walking around with a hulking senior following him around isn't going to make matters any better. At least, Gladio defaults more towards affable than intimidating around most people, but he also doesn't foresee the older teen necessarily having a good time around his classmates. 

He tries to put the thought of his mind until the evening of the party, though the ride there ends up being uncomfortably quiet with both he and Gladio squeezed into the backseat of Ignis' car. Prompto spends the entire time silently fixing his hair in the passenger side mirror when he's not busy trying to start a conversation with Ignis who he's only spoken to a short handful of times. He's more at odds with Gladio who hardly seems enthused about the entire event to begin with.

"Didn't really think we'd have an entire entourage," he remarks to try and break the ice, "really thought it'd be only Noct and I. Sorry we gotta drag you guys from your work and all." 

"I'm only dropping the three of you off then taking care of other affairs," Ignis calmly informs him.

Thankfully, his father had only requested Gladio's presence as being followed around by two guys an entire evening would be vastly worse, and no matter what efforts Gladio and Ignis take to dress down, they both still stick out rather sorely from the rest of the populace. 

"I'm the one stuck on babysitting duty," Gladio adds, "so the two of you better stay out of trouble." 

"Wait!" Prompto protests, turning his upper body towards the backseat to eye Gladio, "who says we need baby-sitting?" 

"The king. So no messing around." 

Noctis isn't sure what kind of 'messing around' anyone would get up to in a party, but it _is_ a night club. He imagines they probably won't be serving drinks to minors, so really the only thing they have to worry about is Prompto trying to dance, which would be more of a social disaster than an actual one. 

The place is packed by the time they arrive, the venue located underground in a stuffy place with the scent of stale sweat in the air. The DJ plays some kind of electronic dance mix that makes Noctis' ears ache right away as he tries to avoid all the bodies struggling to press close to his, but at least, it's easy to go unnoticed in the crowd with the lights low and so many people pushed up one another. He weaves through the sea of dancers, trying to find an empty corner to occupy, though he barely makes it far enough inside before hands pull him towards the dance floor. Plastic nails latch onto his belt loops, hips tugged inwards where purple-dyed smoke blows across his face, and he can hear Prompto faintly calling out to him, the sound dimmed by the blaring speakers as the synth tune picks up.

His ears seem to pound in conjunction with the underlying bass that reverberates on the floor beneath him, and the smell of sweat grows stronger while he's pressed in between two people. Male or female, he can't really tell, only feeling the strange brush of fingers under his clothes and a torso molded to his back like a second skin. In an instant, he freezes up, muscles locked in place and instinct bidding him to fight harder than he ever has before even when he knows the touch is innocent. These people mean no harm by dancing, but his skin nevertheless glows blue all around before he forces down the urge, stuffs it somewhere out of sight, and tries to breathe.

When the next song comes on, the hands loosen, letting him escape at last, and he tries desperately to find Gladio's looming figure or Prompto's bright hair sticking through the sea of bodies. Fortunately, he doesn't have to wander far, feeling Gladio's palm come down on his shoulder as the older teen tugs him further away from the throng of dancers.

"You're pretty popular with your classmates," he teases with a laugh, but all Noctis can register is the low timber of his voice rolling next to his ear and the way his hot breath crawls flush along his skin.

His own breath stays lodged in his throat, burning holes where it's wedged while he feels his forearms tingle with goosebumps sprouting across the surface, though he doesn't feel cold at all. Quite the opposite in fact, sweating so hard under the long-sleeved black v-neck top that he's wearing that he instantly regrets choosing it at all. Prompto had the right idea in foregoing sleeves altogether. 

He plucks the top of his shirt from his skin for a moment to try and alleviate the stifling sensation before turning around to look at Gladio who's grinning a little too hard for his own comfort.

"How do I get off the dance floor?" he asks, though the music drowns out his voice as the beat picks up, and he can see Gladio mouth 'what?' at him before tapping his own ear.

Noctis can't help but look irritated at the prospect of having to repeat himself before latching onto Gladio's shirt and yanking him close, though he freezes immediately, distracted by the scent of whatever cologne rolls off Gladio's neck at that moment and the fact that the older teen decides to casually rest his hand on his waist to tug him in closer. Every single word in his vocabulary rolls right out of his memory bank at that moment, leaving him fishing for anything to say. Only his sense of smell deigns to function all too powerfully, and he's so annoyed with himself for the uncharacteristic reaction that he shoves Gladio away hard and retreats, desperate for fresh air at this point. Desperate to smell anything that isn't dance-induced sweat or Gladio. 

He ends up squeezing his way to freedom as he reaches the back rooms where couples are already weaved together in the corners, making out and dancing a little more provocatively then they were on the dance floor. It's easy to ignore it all when his mind is spinning in place, and the wall is the only support he has as he yanks his shirt away from his chest once more to try and cool down.

Fortunately, Prompto finally appears in his peripheral looking worried.

"You okay, Noct?" 

He nods gently at Prompto as he exhales.

"Yeah, just a little hot." 

"Tried to get a photo of you on the dance floor, but the lighting's terrible in here." 

Thank whatever gods are out there for that. The last thing he needs is a photo to commemorate that moment, not that he even danced at any point. He'd qualify that as more him being rubbed on than anything. 

"Why aren't _you_ out there dancing?" 

He shouldn't be the only one suffering. 

"Too busy laughing at you," Prompto replies, words that earn him a quick shove to the shoulder. 

"At least I don't bounce like a chocobo when I dance." 

"Oh, that's not cool, man! I can totally dance!" 

Noctis would have to see it to believe it, but he refrains from issuing a challenge in lieu of trying to figure out where Gladio went again. He must have gotten swallowed up in all those bodies. Maybe he shouldn't have freaked out on him seconds ago, but he had been feeling completely tense since he'd arrived here. Parties really aren't much of his thing, let alone loud and boisterous ones, and he's desperate to slink out the back door and spend the rest of the night in the arcade a couple of blocks west. The only reason he's even enduring this is because of Prompto, who unlike him appears to be having a blast trying his best to add enough flash to snap photos of all the girls dancing together on the dance floor. 

"Come on," he says after a moment before pointing up so Prompto can see the second level, "you can get better photos from up there." 

It takes a lot of pushing to even get that far, but they make it mostly in tact and manage to even find a small table that gives them a nice view of the entire club. By then, he's managed to spot Gladio who has a gaggle of girls surrounding him, and the older teen meets his gaze before offering him a short wave. At least, he doesn't look upset about being abruptly ditched, though Noctis imagines he'll probably hear about it later. 

His palm cradles his face in the meantime, watching the easy way Gladio's shoulders slope around those girls, how casually he makes them all laugh alongside him. Though he'd never found him charming himself personally, it's easy to see why any girl would with the disarming way he always smiles at them. Unfortunately, Noctis knows his angry, temperamental side more than his easy-going one. Maybe if he wasn't always giving him a hard-time…

He doesn't get a chance to finish that thought as Prompto's hand moves across his field of vision to get his attention. 

"You still with me? You kind of zoned out there for a bit." 

Noctis blinks slowly as he glances back at Prompto who by now is cycling through all the pictures on his phone. 

"Managed to get this one of you looking absolutely horrified -look how freaked out you look." 

His teeth clench together as he covers the phone quickly with his hand. "I don't look that freaked out. Just caught me off-guard." 

"You totally do! That girl had her hand so far up your shirt, too!" 

With plastic nails digging into his spine. There's a memory he can go without. Does she even go to their school? He doesn't bother asking that out loud, instead watching Prompto lean over the railing to take more photos. Rather than brave the first level again, Noctis remains tucked in his chair maxing out his latest character in King's Knight on his phone. Only a light tap on his shoulder moments later pulls him back to reality, and he turns around to find Gladio ready to shake his head at him.

"Can't believe with all these people here, you're playing on your phone." 

"Are you going to lecture me now, _dad_?" Nocits asks with a quiet snort, though Gladio foregoes an immediate verbal response and snatches his phone from him instead. His fingers then idly swipe across the screen a few times, studying his progress. 

"This the best character you got? These stats are a joke." 

Before he can say anything in response, Prompto beats him to the punch- "No way! You play King's Knight, too? Here I thought you were just hired muscle walking around and looking big and scary." 

Gladio flicks Prompto's forehead for that before grinning at the two of them, "that sounds like a challenge to me. Why don't I add you two and show you how a real knight does battle?" 

Noctis is still reeling in the same shock that Gladio actually plays games on his phone like any other warm-blooded teen, which shouldn't really surprise him all that much, but he's never once seen him at it. Then again, there's still a giant chunk of things he doesn't really know about him, and this is a development he can get on board with. 

He quickly adds Gladio to his King's Knight friends list before logging in, and both he and Prompto end up spending close to an hour getting sorely beaten by Gladio. They only stop when Prompto is ready to throw his phone in frustration and when Noctis starts bemoaning the fact that he can't even overpower Gladio in a mobile game. 

"How many hours do you really spend playing this?" Prompto prods as they finally head out of the club.

Noctis has never been more grateful for the scent of clean, fresh air. Even with his sleeves rolled up, he'd been sweating bullets inside, and he doesn't think two or even three baths will completely remove the stench of a room full of hormonal teenagers off of him. 

"Not as many as you think. You two are just predictable and easy to read." 

No one would have pegged someone like Gladio to have a good mind for strategy, so he's more impressed than he wants to admit. Like Prompto, he'd thought he'd be more brawn than brains this whole time, but he also feels like he should know better given how long they've known one another. Gladio's always been rather sturdy and impenetrable when it comes to defense, and it's not just simply a matter of size. He can read him and move in advance to either block him or take him down while he himself lacks any sense of careful planning when it comes to offense. Maybe if he did, he'd actually manage to win for once.

He mulls it over as they cram themselves back in the car so Ignis can drop them off, though he doesn't expect Gladio to follow him up to his apartment after they've left Prompto at his place. He silently stands next to him the whole elevator ride up, a fact that leaves Noctis a little on edge, though he tries to cover up his anxiousness by yawning. When they reach his apartment door, he finally stops to glance over at the other teen, head tilted to the side a bit questioningly. 

"Relax, I'm not crashing at your place. Wouldn't even be able to take the smell," Gladio tells him, holding up both his hands placatingly. 

"What smell?" Noctis grumbles, pushing the door open, though he's well aware what he means. There's definitely 'a smell' lingering in the air, one he's gotten more used to over time. 

"That one." 

Noctis had never felt that self-conscious about the mess before, but he also doesn't get many visitors aside from Ignis or Prompto. He immediately ducks his head in embarrassment as he drags himself inside, absently grabbing a few plastic bottles along the way to toss them in the trash. 

"Why _are_ you following me then?" 

His eyes flicker to Gladio from over his shoulder, lingering on his face which looks more exhausted to him in the bright lights of his apartment. He hadn't realized how tired he'd been, and guilt starts to gnaw around the corners of his stomach as he lingers in the living room, wondering if he should apologize or even say anything at all. 

"King's orders," Gladio finally answers, "he said to see you to your door, so here we go." 

_Here they go_. Noctis exhales through his nose, feeling at a loss still and hating the fact that his very existence is a constant imposition on everyone's lives. It's not what he would have chosen for himself, and as much as he tries not to trouble anyone, his father always sees things differently. He wishes he could tell him to back off, but the words never come out when they do see one another. His tongue always sits too heavily in his mouth, and he ends up doing more listening than talking, half-afraid he'll miss out on something important. He doesn't know how many more stern lectures he'll be given -still ironically wishes he'd get more from even after the ones he's received already just so they could spend more time together. 

The sense of fleeting time is always the most palpable when his father's around him.

"Well, I'm safe. You can let him know I'm still in one piece." 

He doubts that will put his old man at ease, but he doesn't have much else to say regarding the situation. Fortunately, Gladio doesn't press him even if he looks like he wants to, lips parting briefly and his brow wrinkling in displeasure before his expression smooths back to its usual relaxed one again. His hand then reaches out to draw over Noctis' head, palm lightly moving across his scalp to ruffle his hair in that way that never quite feels as patronizing as it should be. Rather, the heat emanating powerfully from his palm always slides down the back of Noctis' neck like a waterfall of pure warmth that crashes straight into the top of his spine and continues to sluice downward slowly. He can feel the goosebumps from earlier returning, all the hair in his body seemingly standing rigid as his own lips part just to breathe a little more before Gladio withdraws. 

"'night, Noct," the older teen drawls out, and Noctis is left watching him walk out of his apartment while standing in the same spot for far too long as his heart drums too hard against his rib cage. 

Eventually, he's going to have to address what's going on with his body lately, but he puts off the idea for another night as he flops down on his sofa and tries to blanch out the day's activity with some mindless talk show program. It's all he can do to calm down the absolute mess of autonomic functions triggered beneath his skin's surface from Gladio's touch as he drifts off to sleep. 

 

 **005.**

 

The back of his tanktop presses uncomfortably tight to his skin as the summer's heat beats down on him without restraint, making him feel lethargic while he tries to follow Gladio's movements. They'd been working on hand-to-hand training, though most of the practice had been embroiled in excessive water breaks while Noctis fights not to dehydrate. With his own sixteenth birthday around the corner, the summer months have been especially brutal as if to emphasize he's just now starting to enter the worst years of his scholastic life. To top it off, his training had escalated significantly with an unyielding pressure under the weight of his father's and Gladio's words -the warning falling unbidden from them that the worst is yet to come. He won't always get to be a teenager, and he clings to the vestiges of his youth stubbornly in his off-time, hiding in the arcade whenever he can find time or staying close to Prompto's side just to remember what it's like to laugh. 

Those days have started to grow few and far between, and he's instead left standing in the middle of the training grounds receiving a fist to the face mid-way through his training session, pain blooming through his jaw as his whole body stumbles backwards, and only one foot narrowly catches him from falling on the ground. The rest of his body sways before he brushes his forearm across his sweat-soaked forehead, trying to focus though his bleary vision as Gladio goads him forward again, urging him to get passed his stone wall defense. It feels practically impossible, having wound up getting punched or shoved back each time, sometimes ending up on his back enough times that his spine is starting to sport grass burns. 

"Come on," Gladio presses, "we got an hour more, so better make the most of it." 

_A whole hour._ Noctis doesn't have the energy to groan out loud, though his body is certainly doing a lot of screaming for him as he rubs his joints before dropping down into a fighting stance. Knees bent, elbows raised, he watches Gladio as they circle around one another like two coeurls ready to tear into each other, though it feels more like he's facing a behemoth to be honest. An irritable one with a mean right hook, but Noctis is annoyed enough by the heat that he doesn't back down like he wants to. Instead, he feints to Gladio's left, right fist sailing into the air to get him to raise his defense in that direction before he pivots and turns to aim a kick towards his now vulnerable right side. The result leaves him with Gladio catching both his fist and thigh in each of his palms before driving him face-first into the ground with his arm yanked back at an uncomfortable angle. The pain radiates up straight to his shoulder as Gladio wedges his knee between his thighs, making sure he's thoroughly disabled before letting out a huff of air next to his ear. 

"You're moving way too slow. On top of that, you have to stop opening with a fake. The pattern's too easy to pick apart." 

It's the only way he can get him anywhere near vulnerable, unsure how else to disarm him especially when Gladio's focus is laser sharp at the moment -unlike himself, who has been thinking about lunch since he first arrived at the citadel. 

The weight continues to crush into his backside, suffocating him with the sheer amount of heat bleeding from his body mass onto him, and he feels pain rapidly curl down his spine, his old injuries awakening from the brutal arm lock. His teeth clench together to hide the groan that wants to spill out as he struggles to squirm out of Gladio's hold. Fortunately, the older teen chooses to release him completely at that moment and moves off of him before grabbing him by the arm to help him stand.

"Use your legs a bit more next time," he continues to instruct before dropping into the same stance as before.

Still reeling from the pain, Noctis feels the energy sapped out of him and only moves into position because he has no choice. Gladio's not going to let him off early regardless of how hot the weather outside gets, and he keeps sweating so much that he's sure he reeks unpleasantly by now. When Gladio motions at him to move, his legs feel immediately sluggish, and he practically trips him over himself before awkwardly recovering his stance in time to try and deliver a swift kick to his side. 

Gladio sidesteps it easily and delivers an uppercut that sends him reeling back and narrowly losing his balance. With a fresh new wave of pain erupting, Noctis thinks he's had as much as he's going to take and lunges at Gladio with most of his weight before trying to outright tackle him, another sloppy maneuver that Gladio easily peels away from but not without holding his foot out to trip him. The result leaves him face first on the ground again as Gladio pushes his boot down on the top of his back. 

"You've got to be kidding me. You didn't think that would work, did you?" 

"I'm so close to passing out. Can we take a break already?" 

The boot presses down on him harder before Gladio withdraws it and crouches down closer to his level to inspect the damage.

"Still look like you can go another round to me. Besides, you _just_ had a water break."

That felt like it was an eternity to go, and Noctis is certain he's already sweated most of it out. His throat feels like sandpaper at the moment, and Gladio's definitely not helping him at all, though from this distance, he can see how badly he's been sweating through his own tank top, too. He looks positively soaked all over, and there's something white sticking out from his back that Noctis reaches out to brush over before Gladio knocks his hand away.

"What's that?" he asks quietly, wondering if it's a bandage. Was he fighting while injured this whole time? 

"Nothing you should worry about." 

Ignoring his words, Noctis pushes himself to sit up more fully before yanking the fabric aside to get a glimpse of more bandages spread over his upper back, and Gladio once again pries him away with a pointed glare.

"It's not what it looks like," he explains, "just got a little inked up. It's far from finished, so it probably looks like a  mess." 

"A tattoo…?" 

"Tattoos," he corrects, "sort of the pride of the Amicitia family." 

He recalls seeing pictures of Gladio's father when he'd been young and still adventuring around. His own dad had kept plenty of pictures of his old group in his office, and it's true. He had tattoos emblazoned up and down his arms everywhere the eye can see, though it's hard to picture them on him now when his image of Clarus is a very astute gentleman in ceremonial Crownsguard robes. He's always wondered if his dad has any too but never bothered asking. Maybe it's just a thing the noble branch families do

"They hurt?" Noctis asks, still voicing a bit of rare concern for Gladio. 

"Not as much as watching you clumsily trying to keep up with me." 

That earns the older teen a harsh shove to the shoulder before Noctis stands with renewed energy. No way is he going to let Gladio go with that smug comment even if he feels ready to drop dead on the ground at the moment. His pride won't let him right now as he winds his shoulders back and positions himself. 

"Fine, one more time. Let's go, old man," he prompts, and Gladio follows suit, grinning the way he always does when he manages to get fired up.

"You finally going to be a challenge for me?" 

He'll try to, but he's not completely confident about that. Gladio looks nowhere near as winded as he feels, but he'll push himself if he has to, waiting for the hand signal before launching himself. This time he strikes towards the center, fist moving towards Gladio's chin to force his hulking body back a few steps before he delivers a roundhouse kick towards Gladio's stomach. That, too, is dodged, but he's backing Gladio up with each maneuver, cornering him as he keeps aiming for his frontside until Gladio finally figures it out and catches his next punch in his hand. Just as he'd been expecting. 

Noctis uses the grip Gladio has on him to yank him down to his level, kneeing him squarely in the stomach, and he watches the older teen's face contort into a grimace, coughing from the impact before Noctis pulls free. He takes quick advantage of the fact that Gladio's doubled over to push his own hands on his shoulders and hoist himself high enough to get his legs around his neck so he can bring him down in a tight lock. 

Both of Gladio's hands instantly grab his thighs, pushing into them with bruising force to untangle them as he curses beneath his breath, though Noctis doesn't let up, letting him struggle for a bit in revenge for making him spending so long outdoors in this kind of heat. 

"Come on, tell me I won," he breathes out, his voice strained from the physical exertion, and he thinks Gladio will concede for once and back down. That thought proves to be naive when Gladio actually succeeds in moving his thighs apart enough to free himself before darting fast to grab his forearms, locking them to the ground by his head as his body looms over him. 

The damp fabric of Gladio's shirt hangs over his own, and all he can smell thickly twined beneath them is more sweat, the stench unbearable as Noctis tries to writhe out of the iron grip. Gladio doesn't let him, grinning down as he watches him struggle underneath him and feebly trying to buck him off with his body. 

"What was that about you winning?" he teases, and the tone he uses grates on his last nerve as Noctis lifts his legs enough to slide them around Gladio's waist just so he can dig his heels into the base of his spine, trying to retaliate any way he can with the limiting position. 

"Admit it- I almost had you." 

Which is frustratingly true even if Gladio refuses to admit it, but at least, he looks just as exhausted as himself, his worn out breaths rolling onto Noctis' face as he remains immovable over him until Noctis can no longer bring himself to struggle anymore. His legs stay looped around him but relax enough that he realizes just how close Gladio is to him when that simple movement leaves their lower bodies brushing uncomfortably tight to one another, and Gladio's body temperature still feels freakishly high in the summer heat, scorching right through him like a merciless blanket of fireballs dancing onto his flesh. 

It's the only thing he can fixate on outside of the strong stench of sweat clustered in the air between them that he inhales as he stares up at Gladio's and notes that from this vantage point, he can count every single eyelash around Gladio's eyes -lying close enough to him that he can even pick up on the way the sun tinges the color of his irises a deep rust shade. He can also see the pores on his nose and the beads of perspiration latched onto his top lip that Gladio hasn't bothered to lick off, though a stray thought flashes through his mind, an errant and unprecedented urge to lick it clean himself, and the rest of his body responds to the suggestion with resounding eagerness as his stomach starts to clench in on itself and throb around the surface with an indiscernible feeling. That same feeling rapidly boils through him and slides its way down between his thighs where too much heat, all the heat in his body really, starts to coalesce, and he ends up moving his hips in an experimental brush of feverish desperation to know what happens next, curiosity grabbing a tight hold of his common sense. The moment he does so, he instantly regrets it, his cock responding from the contact by pressing up into the front of his underwear where all the sweat from the day's exertion stretches the fabric around it with an uncomfortable compression, but even worse is the fact that he knows Gladio feels it, too, because he makes a sound in the back of his throat like he's shocked before immediately releasing his forearms. 

Once they're free, Noctis slams his hands upwards to shove violently at Gladio's form, throwing him off as fast as he can to escape while every thought forming in his head right then ends up being more confusing than the next. He can't explain it to himself nor does he want to, only pushing his legs to run and not even bothering to snatch his own gym bag before leaving.

With his cellphone and keys in there, he's left sprinting aimlessly through the remote area surrounding the citadel before he finally drops onto a bench to cradle his face as his body threatens to give out from all the abuse. He's so tired he can no longer see straight, and he doesn't even want to acknowledge the humiliation he feels because he doesn't even know what triggered this kind of response in him. It hadn't been his first time getting hard obviously, but it had been his first time with another person. Of all the people, it had to be one of the worst too, having a too clear image in his mind still of the way Gladio had looked at him when they first met.

_Like he was worthless. Like he was an utter disappointment. Like he had no business being born into the royal line._

He doesn't want to go back to being the object of his dissent, especially when he's sure it had been a completely autonomic reaction to the situation. He's never given much thought to Gladio being anything more than a bodyguard to him, and they are barely even friends outside of that. Definitely not to the extent he and Prompto are, though Noctis had been trying here and there to actually get to know him better. What a way to put a wrench through that idea, unable to stop himself from feeling sick about it.

Ignis finds him still sitting in the same spot an hour later and is thankfully carrying his gym bag. He holds it out to him with a furrowed brow while Noctis wordlessly snatches it from him. 

"Gladio said you skipped out on the rest of training." 

Is that his only take away from earlier? 

"I'm not going back." 

Possibly forever if he can help it, but he doubts his father would let him. He'll have to face Gladio eventually and hope that he won't bring up the subject at all. It's a small hope he clings to as he follows Ignis to the car. 

"Did you both have another altercation?" 

Noctis shrugs lightly. 

"Something like that." 

He doesn't offer further explanation, letting Ignis silently drive him back to his apartment, though he can tell he's worried about him with how much he continues to glance back at him at every traffic light. If he could be open about this stuff with him he would, but he doesn't think he can even mention it to Prompto who's the most easy-going person he knows. It's not that he thinks his friend would laugh at him at all, but he also doesn't think he could say anything to help. It's just something he'll have to deal with one way or another, and that's usually by stuffing it into some untouched compartment in his mind and drowning out the niggling reminders of it with ambient video game noise as he spends the rest of the weekend on the couch, hiding. Always hiding. 

It works for about a week, leaving phone calls unanswered as he skips out on all his training sessions, even if Ignis sternly reproaches him each evening about it. Noctis swallows down whatever guilt he has about it, fearing even more that Gladio's probably reached critical mass as far as his anger and disgust at him are concerned. 

On the 7th day exactly, it's not Ignis who rouses him with breakfast that morning, but he can see that he gave Gladio the key card as the older teen lets himself in without a word and physically drags him out of bed. Noctis doesn't even have time to protest the brutal wake up call, let alone process it, only finding himself struggling to stay on his feet as he rubs his own hand tightly over his face. True to prediction, Gladio looks upset, but Noctis manages to avoid the daggers in his eyes by keeping his own gaze glued to the floor instead of facing him head on. It's cowardly, he knows, but his stomach is too busy flipping around all over the place from anxiousness that he can't really focus on the matter at hand anyway. 

"How long are you planning on avoiding me?" though his tone his harsh, his voice manages to stay leveled, not resorting to shouting. However, Noctis can tell he wants to by the way he clenches his hands on either sides of his thighs.

A harsh shove follows those words, the gesture enough to send him stumbling back a few steps, but Noctis still doesn't respond. He's not sure what to even say because Gladio does have every right to be pissed off at him. If he'd handled this more maturely, things could have gone smoother in terms of patching up their trainer-trainee relationship, but he always has to choose the worst option in every situation. 

"Set aside the teenage stupidity for one sec and look around!" His hand gestures to the window with Insomnia in plain view before him. "All these people are going to be counting on you one day. Are you going to throw their faith on the ground like that? Don't you even care?" 

Of course, he does. He _always_ has, but caring and acting are two different things. He can't seem to get it together long enough to figure out how he's supposed to juggle being both a human and a prince, wondering if the only solution is to ultimately sacrifice the former. It's hard to accept that, and the fact that Gladio always thinks it should all come easily to him is often infuriating. The truth is- being a blood born Caelum means _nothing._ He still gets scrapes when he falls, and his scars don't magically fade way. 

He catches Gladio reaching out to shove him again, but this time he stops him by snatching his wrist and staring up at him defiantly. "Back off," he practically growls, teeth clenched together in erupting anger as he forces Gladio to take a step back this time, "If you even have to ask that, then you know nothing about me!" 

"I know you're an idiot and a selfish brat. What? Do you think I'd suddenly think any differently about you because you got a little more worked up than usual the other day?" 

Are they really talking about this now? Noctis can't stop his own face from cringing as he mentions it, feeling most of the anger punched right out of him in that second, just as quickly as it had surmounted, and replaced with an onslaught of embarrassment as he puts more distance between their bodies again.

"It wasn't like that-!" 

Gladio's arms cross over his chest, managing to look somewhat bemused at the statement.

"You think I was born yesterday? Look, I don't care who or what you like. I _care_ more when you don't do your job or let me do mine."

Those words hit him harder than any other as Noctis soaks them in slowly, realizing that Gladio was never really upset at his reaction the other day at all. The only thing that got under his skin was him skipping out on training. It's somewhat of a relief even if Noctis hasn't exactly reasoned with himself _why_ he even reacted like that to begin with. At least, he knows he hadn't triggered any kind of disgust from the other teen.

"I'll go with you," he concedes, his voice now quiet and small, though he's shocked when Gladio instantly responds to those words by ruffling his hair affectionately.

"That's more like it."  

The hand withdraws while Gladio makes himself at home on his couch, watching TV while Noctis leaves him to get ready, though it's strange to see him there. He's rarely ever come to visit him at his apartment, and even then, he'd never stayed for more than a few minutes, usually talking to Ignis instead of making himself comfortable. This whole morning has proved to be an anomaly, and Noctis moves quicker than usual just to get out of the stagnant awkwardness sooner and distract himself with training.

The rest of the day unfurls uneventfully, even the weather managing to grace them with a few cool breezes instead of the merciless heat. By the time they finish up, the two of them end up side by side, resting their backs on the same tree as Gladio passes a water bottle between them. Noctis takes it without thinking, gulping down nearly most of it in one tight swallow before brushing his fist across his own mouth to wipe the stray drops.

His muscles are still burning from the exertion, but rather than feeling tired, he feels elated -lighter on his feet than he has been in days-, even managing to have sneaked in a few more good hits than usual. All the anger between them had dissolved, leaving them in serene silence, though Noctis can't help still watching Gladio closely out of the corner of his eye, following the motion of his arm as he takes the bottle back to press it to his lips. It shouldn't feel any more abnormal than Gladio sitting on his couch, but he also can't recall any time they actually shared a drink together, though he and Prompto swap drinks all the time. It's what friends do, isn't it? 

Yet here he is, eyes enraptured by the sight of Gladio's lips slowly wrapping around the plastic bottle neck before tipping his head back to swallow down the rest of the contents. He can't help but feel a little entranced by the slow, methodical way his throat bobs with each gulp and the twin streaks of water that crawl from his lips down his chin then lower down the expanse of his muscled neck, mixing in with the sweat and grime staining the surface. The renewed urge to press his tongue to the same surface returns, wanting to scrape along the clean path of it just as slowly, and he tries so hard to eradicate that thought just as quickly as it appears, refusing to keep acknowledging any of it for fear of straining his relationship with Gladio any further. 

When Gladio finishes, he bops the bottom edge of the empty bottle against Noctis' nose to get his attention, an action that makes the prince blink in surprise as he hastily yanks himself further out of his own stupor. 

"Am I going to have to get used to you looking at me that way? I'm flattered, but you're not my type." 

It's meant to be a light-hearted tease, but the weight of it sinks heavily through Noctis like swallowing down a brick, rough edges tearing along sensitive muscle tissue on its way down. He hates feeling that deeply gutted, but it's not like he'd been expecting any differently. Why would he? He knows Gladio has had several girlfriends in the past, keyword being _girl._ And Noctis isn't entirely sure how to really parse though his own ideas of attraction, if that is what he can even call this at all. Up until recently, he'd only ever thought of Luna as anything remotely resembling his idea of 'pretty,' but in his head, she's still a twelve year old child and he's still eight. He doesn't know how he'd feel if he were to look at her right now, if he'd want to press his mouth to any part of her body -if he'd be fascinated with the warmth constantly rolling off her flesh the way he is with Gladio's. 

What he feels about the two of them definitely fit into separate categories, but he hasn't really figured out much beyond that. Not that it matters in the long run when they're both unattainable for vastly different reasons. It's pointless to get worked up over, so Noctis stops himself from feeling anything but mildly irritated at the rejection.

"Who says you're my type?" he finally fires back, elbowing Gladio hard in the side for good measure before standing up.

He doesn't get far before Gladio grips the back of his pants to drag his ass back down to the ground, and he doesn't know what to expect it when Gladio suddenly twists his body to lean towards him uncomfortably close, letting too much of the stagnant stench of sweat wash over Noctis while he feebly tries to lean far away from him in response. One of Gladio's fingers ends up hooking in his shirt to stop him and yank him forwards until his mouth is only narrowly hovering near Noctis', so close his warm breath climbs insistently over his lips, bidding him to unconsciously part them as his eyes slide half-shut. The more logical part of his mind is telling him this is a bad idea, but it's rapidly turning into a distant and faded buzz when he hears the low drawl of Gladio's voice being spoken against his mouth.

"Do you still need that much help figuring it out, Noct?" 

His heart is slamming furiously up against his chest, and he can't breathe at all, head swimming fast and uncontrolled through a tidal wave of more urges, chaotic impulses that want to utterly control him. 

"I don't know if I want to," Noctis whispers back, and it's such a dangerous sentiment that leaves every inch of his body throbbing erratically, but neither he nor Gladio ever move from their spot to bridge what's left of the gap between them. 

Seconds pass slowly, an eternity laden in each one, until Gladio finally draws his hand up the back of Noctis' neck and stretches out his fingers to comb through his hair from the base of his scalp to the top of it. There's a small genuine smile tugging at his lips that Noctis can't help but be captivated by before the older teen moves away completely, putting a reasonable amount of distance back between them.

Noctis, for once, misses the sweltering atmosphere from being crowded in too tight by him, but he doesn't bother trying to chase him at all, knowing it's futile. It would go nowhere at all, and Gladio's already made his interests clear enough. He doesn't want to press the matter, instead retreating fast to the Citadel, never thinking it would ever serve him as an asylum, yet here he is, taking comfort in the walls that used to crush in on him for the simple fact that they keep him far from Gladio at the moment. 

Hopefully, the tight feeling swelling in his gut will eventually pass.


	2. Chapter 2

**006.**

 

Noctis' sixteenth birthday arrives as quietly as the one before it with the prince forgoing any idea of a party to spend most of the morning sleeping in preparation for a small private dinner with his father later. Those plans get scrapped quickly when Noctis is rudely awakened by a pair of jostling hands -a reminder to him to tell Ignis to stop loaning out his key card. His sleep-addled mind takes a few seconds to comprehend what's going on before spotting Gladio's face hovering in front of him. Judging by the fact that it's still dark outside, he assumes it's still 4 or 5 in the morning, definitely not a time in which anyone in their right mind should be waking up, least of all himself. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" he mumbles none too pleasantly, still suffering the remnants of one of those deep dreams where he'd been sprinting frantically around the citadel and opening doors only to find out there were more halls with doors on the other side. 

Dreams like that always leave him feeling more disoriented than usual, unsure if they really mean anything complex or if it's just his brain doing its best to frustrate the rest of him completely. Either way, he is sort of glad it's over, but at what expense? 

"Imagine if I'd broken in to kill you or kidnap you? Do you know how easy that would be when you sleep like the dead?" 

Probably not as easy as Gladio is making it out to be. He likes to think if he were in an actual threatening situation, he would react to it accordingly. It just so happens that Gladio _isn't_ here to kill or kidnap him (as far as he can tell anyway), so his reflexes remain relaxed.

"Don't tell me you came over just to test me." 

A warning would have been nice if that's what he was doing, especially since it's his birthday. Not that that would have encouraged Noctis to wake up any earlier, especially given the aforementioned fact that the sun isn't out yet. 

Gladio's warm hand plants down firmly between his shoulder blades, making his whole body tense in spite of itself. He's suddenly all too aware of his close proximity, the fact that the bed sheets were kicked off at some point in the night in a fit of overheating from the unforgiving summer, and that his nerve endings still stand at attention from even the slightest touch from Gladio. His resolve to stay sleeping instantly crumbles as he jolts away from Gladio's touch and pushes the rest of his body to roll over and sit up. He's sure his hair is spread out in every direction, and he can feel some of the residual dampness on his cheeks from where he'd been sweating against the pillow. 

"Relax," Gladio finally says in a quiet, reassuring tone before inviting himself to sit on the edge of the bed, "I'm not here to test you _or_ drag you out for training. I was going to take you out a little beyond the wall." 

That gets Noctis' attention, well aware how adamant his father is about him even stepping anywhere near the city's limits. He hadn't really been given a chance to drive out anywhere outside of Insomnia since he was little, so he wonders how Gladio managed to orchestrate this trip.

"Why are we heading out there?"

"Fishing trip. Your dad's idea actually." 

Which can only mean one thing- he's canceling their dinner plans. Should he really even be surprised anymore? Obviously, he wouldn't have done it if it there weren't something more pressing at hand, but it's too early for Noctis to put up a strong front to hide how disappointed he feels. His mind's barely even ready to process it, especially under the veil of Gladio's scrutiny. 

"I see." 

It's a simple response with a heavy weight attached to it, one that he knows Gladio picks up on, but thankfully, he doesn't prod him further. Rather than dismissing the change of plans outright, Noctis decides to embrace it if only for the chance to venture out of the wall and fish something more exciting than the usual guppies their local fishing holes have to offer. His dad also had the foresight to send him a fancy new rod for the trip, one that Noctis spends a lot of exclusive time admiring on the way to the car. Rather than finding an Audi waiting for him, however, there's a more rustic and worn-in SUV.

"Yours?" Noctis asks curiously, eying the rough paint job on it.

"Borrowed it. I prefer the leg room. Ignis'd probably complain if he knew I was taking you around in it though, so this stays between us." 

He wonders if it belongs to one of his girlfriends but doesn't bother asking as he chooses to ride in the passenger seat for once so he can get the best view. It's a long drive from his apartment to the lands bordering around Insomnia, though much of it has become a bit barren and desiccated from prior wars. Noctis barely remembers having seen them as a child, but trekking through them right now gives him a sense of nostalgia. The smell alone hits him fast, though he doesn't find it unpleasant at all. There's something raw and fresh about it, free of all the urban scents that assault him on a daily basis. 

Gladio looks equally eager to take the atmosphere in and put some use to his camping equipment. He'd mentioned to him on several occasions how much he loves the outdoors but doesn't get a lot of opportunities to leave Insomnia's city limits much because of the growing imperial threats in these outer parts and the fact that he has to spend a good deal of time looking after a 'certain someone.' But he'd also told him he used to go hunting out in these parts with his dad and bring back wild game for the family to eat. Noctis isn't sure he's ready to get that deeply in touch with nature, settling for just fish for now. 

They manage to spend the first hour together watching the sun rise peak over the horizon and bathe the fishing pond in bright orange and blood red hues. Noctis catches a few small fish that end up being thrown back in while Gladio absently tells him a few stories about spotting a wild coeurl this far out from its usual habitat, but it had eluded him and his father when they tried to corner and kill it. It's hard to believe, and he's pretty sure Gladio's been liberally throwing in an exaggeration or ten in some of his stories. 

"Let me guess," Noctis chimes in after the description of the 'epic' battle with a rogue sabertusk, "you took it down with one mighty blow. Must be great already being a seasoned daemon hunter at the ripe old age of nineteen." 

That earns him a kick to his calf before Gladio snorts derisively at him, "And how many daemons have you taken down? You can barely catch a fish over 11 kg."

A souring insult at this point because it's true. He hasn't really caught anything worthy of being eaten. He wonders if it's the lure or if he's just aiming at the wrong side of the pond. After a few more minutes of an insufferable lack of response from his line, he gestures to the tackle box with his chin. 

"Hand me that silver lure over there. Was hoping I wouldn't have to take it out this soon, but if the fish are being stubborn... "

"Maybe it's the one behind the rod that's scaring them off," Gladio teases before tossing him a new lure. 

Impossible. Noctis has never encountered a fish he couldn't catch, especially with his methodically slow and careful reeling. He knows how to mimic the ease with which a fish glides through water and how to tantalize even the most stubborn of fish into chasing after his lures, but now, this has turned into a matter of shutting Gladio up. 

"If I catch one over 40 kg in the next reel, you have to give me a day off training _and_ call me the Master of Fishing for a week." 

A short laugh falls free from Gladio's lips before he joins him at the water's edge. "I'll take you up on that, but if it's under 40 kg, double training, and you've got to actually pay me a compliment for once." 

Noctis' face curls up with abject disgust at the thought, unsure which one of those is truly the worst. On one hand, there's Gladio relishing the opportunity to torment him with more training. On the other hand, having to be nice to him... 

"Now, I have no choice but to catch a big one next." 

Mentally willing the line to be tugged doesn't work for the first couple of embarrassing minutes while he awkwardly swishes the lure around from one side to another. Are there just not that many fish in this pond or is there something else down there that's scaring them off? He's definitely curious to find out because fish only disperse like this when there is a larger predator lurking, and Noctis tries to focus on where it could be. He slowly reels the line in a bit further, trying not to despair at the continual lack of response. 

That is- until the line is tugged in so forcefully that Noctis almost gets knocked off balance. Gladio manages to catch him with one hand hooking into the back of his pants, keeping him on dry land for the time being. The muddied bank around the pond isn't helping either of them keep a firm footing as the line keeps dragging him forward.

"Whatever that is, it's definitely a monster!" Gladio cries out while Noctis tries to focus on just reeling it in without letting the line snap completely.

The constant tugging makes it almost impossible, worried he might lose his entire rod in the process. His teeth grit together as he follows the direction of it from side to side, chasing after the fish almost until it gives another mighty yank that drags Noctis a few feet forward until he's partially submerged up to his knees. Gladio's arms have now shifted from clutching his pants to sliding around his forearms and giving him some added muscle. It's narrowly distracting, the sudden flood of heat and flesh all around him, wearing it tight like a second skin, but Noctis tries to force his focus on the fish as he gives his reel another tight rotation.

Heavy ripples suddenly break through from the water's surface as the fish shows its dorsal fin peaking through, a luminous aqua colored hue that Noctis marvels at before telling Gladio, "Almost there! Just a little more to go!" 

"Don't worry, I've got you!" he shouts back, and suddenly the two of them are pulling together, abandoning the slow and steady reeling for brute force while the line is worn to thin threads.

The fish continues to war with its end of it, twisting and dancing away before leaping out of the water again. This time it shows off its spear-like mouth where the lure is hooked inside, and Noctis fears for a moment that the hook will tear right out and the rest of it will escape. Fortunately, Gladio grabs the line itself and suddenly yanks the thrashing fish the last couple of feet to them before running into the water to carry it the rest of the way. It's still flipping about in his tight grip, but he refuses to let it go until he drops it safely on the muddy bank where it continues to feebly wriggle. 

"You did it!" 

_They_ did it really, but Noctis doesn't point that out, instead accepting the praise as Gladio grabs him by the arms and tugs him forwards in a tight hug. In the rush of the moment and all the excitement, Noctis forgets his initial instinct to pull away and instead draws his arms around Gladio's back, returning the embrace, though his heart starts to drum wildly from the sudden press of wet clothes and boiling skin underneath. Gladio feels like his usual unbearably warm self all over that it's difficult not to want to revel in the close proximity sometimes, well aware that even holding him now is a bad idea, but he's also struggling to pry himself away. Maybe because he swears he can feel Gladio's heart beating just as fast with an answering frantic beat, and there's the entrancing smell of mint tooth paste still clinging to the stubble on his chin and neck that Noctis finds himself utterly distracted by. 

Gladio's arms shift back enough to allow him room to stare down at him with something quiet and pensive that almost scares Noctis -like he'll remind him again not to keep staring at him. Remind him that he's got a girl waiting for him in Insomnia, that Noctis is just a bratty prince he's responsible for and nothing more, and that he only tagged along today out of royal obligation. Each reality hurts more than the next, and he swallows down the sudden knot in his throat as he keeps his eyes averted because, at that moment, his body wants to do things that his mind hasn't quite pieced together yet. He feels the urge and instinct there but has no mental reference for what it is, except that it exists like an itch too far below the surface of his skin to scratch. 

In the end, he shuts himself down before Gladio can.

"I know what you're going to say... I don't need to hear it twice." 

His words are quiet, barely audible as he starts to withdraw completely, but Gladio's grip on his back tightens before he can, holding him hostage as his face hovers uncomfortable close, invading his personal space completely.

"No, you don't." 

Before those words even register as something comprehensible in his mind, Gladio jerks him forward to seal the distance between them, lips crashing tightly into his in a dizzying, mind-numbing way that leaves Noctis suddenly clutching at his biceps and pushing his nails deep into his muscles. Even though he knows the gesture probably hurts, he's unconsciously searching for something to anchor himself, a tangible connection to convince himself he's not imagining this exchange right now after the way Gladio brushed him off before. The whole situation is at odds with how he'd been acting towards him up until now, but he'd be lying if he told himself he hasn't been wanting this kind of contact, either.  

There's something raw in the way their lips touch, no gentle preamble or exploration. The pressure is bold and bruising, Gladio's hands still holding him captive as his fingers climb up from between his shoulder blades to slide along the curve of his neck just before cradling the back of his head. He can feel the way strands of hair end up wound around his fingertips, a sharp tug in the curve of them that makes his upper body press right into Gladio's torso until the rest of him follows suit. His legs end up tangled awkwardly with Gladio's in a way that threatens to rip apart his sense of balance, and the only thing keeping him steady is the fact that Gladio won't let go at all, easily supporting him as his lips become more animated. The tip of his tongue slides out and hooks under his top lip to touch his front teeth, and Noctis' thighs end up cinching inwards awkwardly as heat starts to crawl in all directions across the pit of his stomach. 

When Gladio finally pulls his mouth away, he regards Noctis with a sharp and unreadable expression, and his fingers continue to move across his scalp in a placating manner, combing through his short hair. 

"I need to figure some things out, too," he confesses, sounding more vulnerable than Noctis is used to hearing him, and he worries, for a moment, that they'll both regret the last couple of seconds and try to bury it far out of reach rather than address it. Maybe it'd be for the better, but Noctis isn't sure he wants to strain their relationship once more and start avoiding him a second time. The thought of it alone gives him at least the smallest surge of resolve as he plants his feet more firmly on the ground and suddenly takes a hold of Gladio's shirt to twist the fabric between his fingers to jerk him closer to his height. 

His lips stubbornly find Gladio's, pushing onto them forcefully as if he can graft his own feelings and confusion this way -never having to try and speak them out loud but also not letting them simmer in his mind without resolution. Somehow, he reasons that recklessly throwing himself into this would be far better than having to hold it all inside, and he spells it out further with his teeth, trying to scrap the edges across Gladio's mouth until the older teen parts his lips in return. And suddenly there's no resistance at all, as if something was simultaneously switched on for the two of them at once, the tiniest spark that becomes an inferno as the they end up wrestling to the ground, and Noctis finds himself with his back against the dew-stained grass, inhaling the scent of it as Gladio pushes his hands into his hair and lifts his mouth up to capture it once more with his own. 

The dampness soaks deeper into the back of his shirt, but Noctis pays it no mind as his own hands climb up Gladio's back where he can feel the expanse of bandages as he draws his hands further over the fabric and feels the ridges right below. He's curious to know how far his tattoos will eventually extend but doesn't want to aggravate the sensitive skin so his fingers change direction, gently moving down Gladio's sides instead before creeping under the hem of his shirt to lightly brush them along hip bones bared by his low-slung shorts. They jut out sharply, encased by pure muscle that Noctis finds himself distractedly exploring over as Gladio's tongue unfurls under his, stroking the tip wetly along the underside as the minty taste of his breath seeps into his mouth. 

His own breath lies hitched in his throat, wrapped around a low groan that spills out without warning when Gladio's tongue twines languidly around his, and he feels too indelibly wrapped up in the sensation of Gladio's hands stroking down his neck before they suddenly reach beneath his body and worm their way against the small of his back. They then force his hips into an uncomfortable arch that leaves their groins pushed tightly together where too much heat cascades down Gladio's body and rolls right through his. It's hard for Noctis to keep a steady grip on himself as his breath starts to spill out of him faster, a broken ragged noise erupting from him while he loudly exhales up into Gladio's open mouth, and his hips crane upwards on their own this time, desperate, urgent, and trying to seek contact. He's only acting on pure impulse at this point, and what he's chasing after doesn't make all that much sense to him, yet. However, he knows he's parched for it as he starts to hook a leg around Gladio's waist to keep their bodies aligned while they rock against one another -only that simple action seems to finally snap Gladio out of whatever trance had overtaken him moments ago.

Before he can press back up into him, Gladio tears himself away, disengaging from his body fast like he's been burnt by it, and he wipes an arm over his forehead before giving him an apologetic look. His lips look slightly swollen from Noctis' own vantage point on the ground, which makes it hard to focus on what Gladio says when he starts to talk.

"That's enough of that. Your father didn't send me out here with you for that sort of that thing." 

"You're feeling guilty now?" Noctis asks, already knowing the answer.

Of course, Gladio does. Noctis is the anointed prince of the Lucis Caelum line, the one he's charged to protect. Nothing more, nothing less. Their roles had always been static since day one, but he also knows he's not the only craving a bit of normalcy. That much had been bruised into his lips just now. 

"Only because you have no idea what you're doing." 

That's true. That's very true. Noctis had just jumped into the deep end head first without thinking, and he definitely feels like he's drowning right now as he sits up and struggles to articulate what exactly he is feeling aside from deeply confused and deeply, _deeply_ turned on. It's not the way he's supposed to feel towards someone who should and would by all respects be his subordinate one day, but he doesn't think he's ever once thought of Gladio that way. He doesn't think he ever _could_ even if he wanted to. 

This could barely be considered a friendship at this point, and he's feeling frustrated with himself more than anything for having no actual grasp on the situation. If he did, he wouldn't be in it to begin with, especially when the sensible thing would be not to allow it to escalate any further. 

His palm rises after a  moment to presses between his eyebrows as he breathes out to steady himself. He doesn't take the hand offered to him but stands up on his own, ignoring the mud caked all over most of his clothes and the way his hair is sticking down to his face unpleasantly. 

"Let's just go back. I don't want to deal with this right now." 

In response, Gladio yanks the hand down from his face to force Noctis to look at him, facing him squarely with the full intensity of his glare barreling into him. It takes all his effort not to flinch back, but Gladio ignores the reaction entirely. 

"You're going to have to deal with it eventually, and I'm tired of you running away from shit like this. Are you going to spend a week avoiding training again? Are you going to take it out on me instead of yourself? _You're_ the problem, Noct." 

The worst part of being berated is feeling like he actually deserves it because he still has the urge to yell back and fight it out except he knows the futility of it all. They'll just get mad then halfway apologize and try to go back to normalcy. The cycle will continue to repeat itself, and he's just as sick of it as Gladio. It's why he ultimately grabs Gladio by the wrist and clenches it tightly between his fingers.

"Then help me figure it out for once!" he shouts back and his grip turns iron-tight around Gladio's skin, "You're the one who kissed me back there, so don't dump it all on me! You want answers, and I want answers!" 

To his surprise, Gladio doesn't blow up at all at those words. Instead, his response is thoughtful silence that stretches out for a few seconds before he gives him a nod and a single quietly spoken word: "Deal." 

That makes Noctis freeze in place as he blinks once in shock, wondering if he heard right. "You mean-…?"

"Deal. I help you, you help me."

There's a pointed jab at his chest at those words, and Noctis takes a step back in spite of himself, trying to process what he really just said while heat starts to creep around his neck and cheeks.

"Just like that, you'll… help me?" 

His mouth won't wrap around the more important words, but the implication hangs in the air between them. Gladio's willing to let him explore whatever is starting to form between them rather than put a complete stop to it. 

Gladio shrugs it off casually, one hand climbing to the back of his own neck to distractedly rub at the sweat there, "Just don't get any weird ideas about asking me on a date. It's only until you figure whatever you need to out."

Noctis' face scrunches up slightly in irritation at that. "No problem there. I don't need you getting on my case after hours, too." 

"You make it sound like I nag you just as bad as Ignis." 

Nowhere nearly as bad, but Noctis doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of anything close to a compliment right now, though he is grateful to have his understanding on the matter. He didn't think things would turn out this way at all, and he's not even sure if it's a good thing, yet. But at least, his head feels significantly less scattered than it did that morning. 

Gladio's heavy arm slings around his neck after a moment, tugging him in close, and he grabs the fish with his free hand, carrying it by the fin as he directs the two of them towards the car.

"Now, let's take thing this back and grill it up." 

Those words put a small smile on Noctis' face, feeling more weightless than he has in a long time. It's a good feeling, one he wants to cling to for a bit longer as they both set out back towards his apartment. 

 

 **007.**   

 

What they have going on ends up being both casual and messy. That's the only way Gladio can think to describe it as most of their training sessions since Noctis' sixteenth birthday have ended up meandering into the both of them rolling around on the grass, kissing each other numb until Noctis' hands start to wander curiously under his clothes, but the prince always cuts himself off there and ends up awkwardly pushing him away just as the two of them start to get hard against one another. Any other guy would probably be frustrated at being jerked around like that, but Gladio understands Noctis has to go at his own pace, well aware that the young prince is painfully shy and seems to only have a rudimentary understanding of how sex and intimacy work. He's quite sure Noctis has never kissed or touched anyone before himself, which makes him feel like he has to be a little careful with how he approaches the subject because knowing the bone-headed prince, he'd easily throw himself into something he's not ready for just to prove he can. It's what Gladio's been afraid of since day one, knowing full well that Noctis is trying to sort his sexuality out like all guys at that age do. Hell, he's almost twenty and had thought he had his own figured out up until a couple of months ago. 

No, even before that, he'd always had an inexplicable soft spot for Noctis and had tried to push him into the role of a younger brother, but it had ultimately started feeling like he was shoving a round peg into a star-shaped hole. There was no way that Noctis would ever fit that cleanly into one role when he occupied a good chunk of his life since he'd been born. He remembered hearing about the miracle baby of King Regis -the 114th of the Lucis Caelum name. Noctis' birth had taken his mother's life, and to anyone, that would mean a curse, but he also survived and bore her visage -blessed with the queen's blue eyes and dark hair. 

Since then, his own father had told him he'd one day serve that child, so he readied himself to protect like the Amicitia family had been born to -to take up arms and fight for a king who'd be as regal and as powerful as Regis. Then, he actually came face-to-face with the future king who refused to eat his vegetables, slept through most of the day, and was always in some new kind of trouble. His earliest memories of Noctis had been watching the staff scold him for bringing a cat into his room and hiding it there, allowing it to scratch through his mattress and most of his bedding. 

That's the king he'd have to one day pledge his loyalty to, and he thought it impossible. There was no way he could, not to someone weak and whiny, who barely paid attention through his lessons and would rather spend his time playing games rather than learning anything about his legacy. His very existence had been an insult to his own until he'd been able to see what kind of person Noctis really is. 

_Scared, vulnerable, timid._

But above all that, brave and selfless. 

Over time, that soft spot he has for him has become a giant crater, carving its way deeper inside of him even when he knows and understands the risks, but he's still human, too, and thinks Noctis is an interesting exception. Even with his utter lack of charm, there's something uniquely endearing about him, and he's always had a pretty face for a guy, which goes a long way in compensating for all the irritating things that often come out of his mouth.

To put it simply, Gladio knows and has known for a long time that he's attracted to him, which makes their current arrangement all the more touchy because Noctis is starting to reciprocate that attraction to a dangerous degree, and eventually, he'll keep wanting to edge things further along. Where would be a safe place to stop without ruining their duty-bound relationship with one another? He has no idea, but he does know he'll have to be the one to do it because Noctis certainly won't. He's got poor impulse control from what he's seen and wears his heart on his sleeve at all times. It's impossible for him to hide what he's thinking or feeling if someone knows exactly where to look, and Gladio likes to think he's got a pretty good grasp on the prince by now.

It makes their current situation feel like wading into a mine field as he watches Noctis strewn across the weight-lifting bench, wrestling to pick up the giant barbell. An endless struggle ensues to even get it off its horizontal rack as his face flushes bright red from the exertion before his arms flop uselessly to his sides.

"I give up. This is impossible." 

"You're the one who said he was ready to go to the next level," Gladio chimes in before moving behind the barbell and easily lifting it for him off the rack. 

Noctis' hands rise to grip the metal bar between the weights, holding it an unsteady manner that makes Gladio worry he'll end up cracking one of the prince's ribs if he releases it. 

"You got it?" he asks carefully, already expecting Noctis to nod. 

While he should be feeling a little relieved that he's putting more effort into his training, temperance is clearly an issue for Noctis. It can be troubling because he either vacillates between going too far with an exercise or not far enough. There's never an in-between, and he doesn't know if his recent surge in effort has to do with him or something else weighing on his mind that he doesn't want to talk about. Gladio assumes it's a complicated mixture of the two, but he's curious to see if Noctis will actually talk about it for once or wait until it bursts out of him in some wholly unpleasant circumstance like usual. So many things could have been resolved a lot faster if he'd just learn to use his mouth for something else other than whining. 

"I'm going to let go," he warns the prince as his fingers start to slowly relax their group, and to his surprise, the barbell doesn't plummet and squish into Noctis' chest.

Instead, the younger teen manages to hold it up, eyes narrowed at it like he's harboring a rage-induced vendetta against the barbell that's compelling him to keep it at bay. 

"See... totally got this." 

His voice sounds rather strained, but Gladio gives him the benefit of a doubt, following Noctis' arm movements as he slowly lowers the barbell to his chest before trying to lift it up again. His teeth clench together tightly while his arms grow a map of veins everywhere, tightly pressed to the surface of his skin where they're practically throbbing from each minute effort to move. Once Noctis manages to lift it all the way again, he releases a heavy exhalation from deep down his throat that sounds a little too loud, a little out of place. A lesser man would have had his focus torn to shreds watching him, but Gladio's good at controlling some of those baser thoughts even if he can't exactly bring himself to look away when Noctis' body is stretched out like that, sweat-dampened clothes clinging to his skin and a sliver of his flat stomach peaking out from where the hem of his shirt has bunched up. He also rests his thighs too far apart, spread on either side of the bench where his shorts hang, showing off the inseams of his pale, hairless thighs a little too vividly. 

The temptation is there to touch him, run his hands along the bared skin, push higher under the fabric while he mouths the side of Noctis' neck, but that'd be a remarkably idiotic idea. For one, they're in the Citadel's gym, and regardless of whether or not they're alone, there are cameras everywhere. Aside from that, Gladio doesn't want to set a bad precedent of letting Noctis think he can worm his way out of training by fooling around with him each time. If someone has to be the responsible party here, it's definitely him because right now, he's cradling Noctis' life in his hands. If he doesn't prepare him for what's to come, then many will die. 

He quickly presses himself to concentrate on counting each lift, growing a little more impressed each time Noctis stubbornly doesn't stop or give up in spite of the pain. By the time he reaches ten, he figures he might as well offer him a small congratulatory prize for the effort. He crouches down to the ground and leans in so that his mouth is close to Noctis' ear where the cameras can't hear him whisper- 

"Make it to twenty, and I might consider actually helping you get off later." 

Wrong choice of words. He learns that quickly when Noctis' eyes bulge out of their sockets, and he instantly drops the barbell down on himself. 

"Shit!" he coughs out, his whole body lurching in pain as he tries to move the barbell. "Damn it, ow! Get this off me!" 

It's probably not the best time to burst out into laughter, too, but Noctis' reaction had been so amusingly befuddled that he can't help watch him struggle just a little longer before he does help him get the barbell off. Noctis instantly sits up moments later, still hacking up his own spit and wiping his face against his forearm repeatedly. 

"What was that about?" he hisses, eyes narrowed at Gladio's form though there's no real fury behind it. He can tell Noctis is more annoyed at himself for failing than actually pissed off by the proposition, which is a good sign that he's not at least entirely opposed to the idea. 

"I'm a man of my word, Noct." 

For a moment, he thinks Noctis might actually try and test him on it, but instead, the prince slumps over still looking flushed and agitated. His hand moves over his chest where the barbell fell while his eyes remain on the ground, always playing the 'avoid-talking-about-it' game. It's a reaction that's starting to get a little old, so Gladio ignores it and places the barbell back on the rack before nudging Noctis in the back of his head. 

"Hit the showers if you're not going to try anymore." 

He doesn't bother waiting for him as he starts to undress, having to be careful around the bandages that now extend down his arms. With his back entirely finished, he's been having his arms inked up to finish the rest of the image, though the pain's made it extra difficult to sleep or to get his usual amount of training done. Noctis has lucked out on that one, though it's hard to ignore the stares he knows the prince is throwing at him when he joins him in the changing room. There are no cameras here, but he's still beyond shy about approaching him, hiding pressed close to his locker and trying to pretend he's not just a few feet away. 

Gladio pays him no mind, as he removes and neatly folds his clothes before walking away, leaving Noctis to sort through whatever hormonally-charged thoughts are slinking their way through his brain. He had it just as bad at that age but also had the benefit of being born in a military family so that he wasn't a moronic mess like most high school boys are. Noctis' friend, Prompto, comes to mind, a walking disaster if he's ever seen one that actually makes him appreciate Noctis' earnest behavior a lot more. He'd rather have him be afraid to look at him than spouting nonsense lines at him or trying and failing to flirt with him. 

The shower stall next to him turns on moments after his own, and he hears the water drops smack into Noctis' body, absently noting every little shuffle as he washes himself. Any other person, he'd invite to join him, but Noctis still feels like a child in front of him at times even when he proves himself not to be on occasion. His eyes definitely look a lot older than sixteen, and he's seen the way he regards current circumstances with his father, the subtle solemnity that always moves through his expression when anyone talks about him. Having grown up looking up to his own father, he understands the sentiment quite well -barely seeing him around, knowing he might die any second for 'the greater good,' constantly losing sleep over it. But he thinks his own father at least had been preparing him since day one to say goodbye, while the king has been avoiding discussing the possibility of his own death to Noctis. Or maybe it's just that Noctis won't accept it and continues to run away from it.

He lets the thought settle into his mind for a bit longer before he finishes up his shower quickly and gets dressed. It takes Noctis longer to get out of the shower as usual, which he figures is because he's either avoiding being seen by him while undressed or he's emptied out an entire bottle of shampoo trying to get his hair clean and soft. For what it's worth, his hair is unnaturally gentle for a guy's, and he's caught himself carding his fingers through it more times than he'd like to admit. 

His leg taps impatiently on the ground as he leans back against the lockers, waiting for Noctis to come out. When he does, Gladio doesn't hide the fact that he's watching him as Noctis slinks into the room like a timid cat ready to bolt and tugs his t-shirt fast over his chest. The faded scars on his back are briefly visible for a moment before Noctis covers them fast then slips his underwear and pants under the towel. He can see the way his ears turn red around the edges, signifying that Noctis is equally aware that he's staring. 

"You don't have to be so shy, you know? I've seen you puke in the middle of training enough times. There's nothing left that can gross me out about you." 

"I'm not shy," Noctis says defensively, straightening up to his full height as he reaches up to pass the towel through his hair again. 

Gladio beats him to it, hands clamping around it to dry up his hair for him before catching Noctis' face peaking out from under it. His eyes look darker than he's used to seeing on him, almost a little entrancing while he purposely leans in to give himself a better look and also inhale the spring-scented soap now clinging everywhere along Noctis' body. 

"Could've fooled me with the way you waddled in here." 

"Only because you were gawking." 

The towel is shifted suddenly to cradle the back of Noctis' neck as Gladio uses it to drag him forward. He kisses him hard without warning, lips curved to the side to meld right into Noctis' as his tongue teases its way into his mouth. Noctis instantly shifts closer to kiss him back, his thin fingers climbing up to push into his hair as his leaner body presses flush against his chest and stomach. It's such an automatic shift in behavior that Gladio can't help wondering if Noctis is constantly holding himself in check instead of surrendering to whatever is going on inside his head no matter how deeply it might be bothering him. He definitely feels it now when Noctis' grip weaves into his hair and when his tongue tangles itself directly against his, trying to curl around it and suck on it in a manner that makes Gladio's own body jerk up into his, heat pooling too fast along the length of his now-clothed cock.

He knows they won't be able to take much of this at the rate things are escalating, his back connecting with the lockers as Noctis' hands continue to move down his back, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, bunching it upwards fast so he can push his fingers below and touch more of him. He's definitely attacking him with a different level of ferocity than he's used to seeing from him, fingernails scratching over the inked up skin, leaving trails of pain before burying a set between the ridges of his vertebrae, and Noctis presses right into his thigh, hard and eager, moving himself along the length of muscle like he wants to straddle it and get himself off on it. It's hard not to let him especially when his hips are canting forward and his mouth has become all teeth and no elegance, dragged down his chin then biting into his neck.

"Sure doesn't feel like you're creeped out," Gladio breathes, his own voice sounding heavier than usual, thickened by obvious arousal as he tries to encourage Noctis by cupping the back of his head and pressing him in towards his neck.

Another sharp bite erupts into the side of it that Noctis soothes with a mind-numbingly good suction motion that Gladio can't help groan to. At the same time, Noctis snakes a hand to the front of his body, fingers splayed out and frozen over his stomach muscles before drawing them over the waistband of his pants, and for a second, Gladio holds his breath, thinking Noctis might actually do something about the fact that they're both more than a little ready to burst at the seams, but he pulls it away instead. His whole body follows like he's been shocked back into sanity, and he's brushing the saliva from his lips with the back of his hand before staring at Gladio with an uncertain expression. 

"I've got to go. Homework," he says quickly before turning away fast and shoving his things frantically into his gym bag.

Gladio watches the tension in his back as he moves while debating if he should let him go this time or try and force him to say something more, though his body is aching for relief right now, and he doesn't want to guilt Noctis at all or pressure him. But it's becoming clearer than ever that Noctis is terrified of taking any steps forward and that his own patience might eventually start to wear completely thin. 

The prince avoids looking at him at all before he leaves to wait for Ignis, and Gladio ends up having to wait until he's home to take care of himself. By then, he's thankfully so wound up that it doesn't take more than a couple of strokes to get it out of his system. The rest of the evening is spent debating how he wants to carry on forward this arrangement or if he should just put an end to it fast. He's got a girl on the side who has no interest in commitment right now, but he hasn't really told her he's been seeing anyone else exactly -hasn't told Noctis about her, either, but he seems to always think he has a girlfriend around anyway. At least, he's not entertaining the illusion that they're a couple, which is something else he'd been afraid of. He has no interest at all in dating him or becoming romantically entangled, a feeling that runs mutual. 

But for how long? Maybe Noctis will find himself a new guy he actually likes in _that way_ given time or a girl. Maybe his childhood sweetheart, the princess of Tenebrae, is who he really wants, and he's just venting his frustrations out on him while he can't see her. Gladio wouldn't be particularly surprised if that's the case, but Noctis likes to avoid talking about her at all to anyone. 

Even so, he doesn't expect this to last long, so he has no plans on investing himself in it more than he has to. It's just a little personal enjoyment on the side, and Noctis is fun to rile up from time to time, though he remembers too well the expression he gave him before he left earlier, the anguish twisting through his youthful features. Well, if he doesn't spill his guts next time they meet up, he'll have to find some way to get it out of him.

Unfortunately, the next time they do cross paths is entirely by accident. He drags his latest girlfriend, Amina, to shoot a few rounds of pool with him at a sports bar he likes to frequent with some of his old school buddies. He doesn't expect Noctis to be there with Prompto, both of them in their school uniforms and pounding away at one of the crane games set up in the corner. It's tempting to leave them be and not interrupt whatever they're wasting their time on, but Amina is immediately starstruck when she sees Noctis, leaning over to whisper, "Is that the prince?" 

He gives her a simple nod, momentarily distracted when Prompto rather loudly voices is annoyance at losing yet again. What else did he really expect? It's a crane game.

"Unimpressive, isn't he?" 

"Definitely shorter than I expected." 

Gladio snorts quietly at that. "Don't let him hear you say that, or he'll sulk." 

Another outburst later, and he finally decides to let his presence known, walking swiftly up to the two of them before simultaneously draping his arms over their shoulders and pulling them in to bump their heads together. 

"Here I was hoping to get a night off from babysitting, and I find you two here. What are you even trying to win?" 

Prompto makes an exaggerated gagging noises as he tries to push his arm away quickly. "Come on, let go!" 

Next to him, Noctis doesn't struggle as hard, just looks slightly irritated before pointing to a particular gold-tinted ball in the center. "It's a limited edition Bomb Bro ring. Prompto's been trying to scoop it out, but it keeps slipping off." 

"You do know those things are rigged, don't you?" 

If Gladio has to point that out, then there's no hope for these two. 

"Of course, I do, but like hell am I going to give up," Prompto responds as though it's the only logical course of action. 

It makes Gladio wonder just how much he's already sunk into this. He knows Ignis would pop a blood vessel if he found out Noctis' allowance was being put into something so frivolous, but at least, he has a feeling it wasn't his idea to begin with. He's just about to talk Prompto out of throwing away more money before the blond starts smacking Noctis' upper arm wildly and pointing in the direction of where his date is sitting.

"Woah, Gladio, is that your girlfriend?" 

Anyone else would be able to miss the imperceptible way Noctis' shoulders suddenly stiffen and one of his hands curls tightly before sliding into his pocket. There's a momentary sense of guilt that runs through Gladio, recalling the fact that he's never really introduced Noctis to any of his girlfriends before, but that had more to do with the fact that Noctis is a prince more so than anything else. How does one casually introduce a girl to a future despot, especially when said despot is exceptionally lazy and has the dietary habits of an eight-year old? People are genuinely more impressed with Noctis if they don't get the 'luxury' of actually meeting him in person. Why ruin the mystique? 

Gladio's eyes reluctantly shift back over to Prompto after a moment to answer him. "Why, you think she'd be interested in a scrawny guy like you?" 

"Hey!" Prompto protests before muttering, "I was just curious. Wasn't planning on asking her out or anything." 

"Good. She's out of your league." 

She attends a prestigious university, so he's pretty sure she wouldn't be able to tolerate Prompto's brand of immature conversation for very long without wanting to dump him fast. Even so, that doesn't seem to discourage Prompto from continuing to gape at her like it's his first time looking at a woman. Honestly, he feels embarrassed for him a lot of the time, but he figures he's spent enough of time leaving his date waiting.

"I'll leave you two to your pointless adventure. Don't spend all your allowance money, Noct." 

The warning ruffles some of Noctis' metaphorical feathers as he flashes a grumpy expression in his direction before grabbing Prompto by the arm abruptly. 

"Come on, let's go." 

"Wait up, Noct, I wanted to say hello!" 

Noctis isn't having it as he all but drags Prompto out by the arm, and Gladio can't help but watch the two of them as they disappear down the street, though the guilty feeling remains weighed down the center of his stomach where it nags at him through the rest of dinner. Something about Noctis' expression had felt entirely off, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out the cause. But he also knows there's no question about where they stand with one another at the moment because he'd made it explicit from the very beginning.  This was never meant to be anything serious, and he's feeling like now he has to be extra careful about leading him on. It's definitely dangerous territory, and he doesn't like thinking he's skating circles around Noctis on very thin ice that's already partially cracked underneath him. He'll have to set him straight eventually, but he puts the prince out of his mind and smiles at his date as she rubs her hand over his forearm and gives him a warm smile.

He needs something uncomplicated right now. 

 

**008.**

 

Iris has been dancing around him all week long to give Noctis an invitation to her twelfth birthday party, a feat easier said than done as Noctis likes to avoid parties like the plague. Ever since the one he'd went with him to two years ago, Noctis hadn't stepped foot in any other and had refused to celebrate any of his own birthdays. For his seventeenth, he barely even stepped outside of his bed, but Gladio had bought him some fishing equipment that had mostly gone untouched while Noctis had grown busier with school and training. 

At least, a birthday party might provide a good break for him, though Gladio knows he'll have to practically drag him out of his apartment. The ensuing whining isn't something he's looking forward to as he calls him up. To his surprise, however, Noctis doesn't wait after his usual 6-7 rings to pick up and ends up answering fairly rapidly.

"What is it?" he says by way of greeting.

"No hello? Thought Ignis was working on those bad manners with you."

He hears Noctis heave out an annoyed sigh on the other end.

"I'm going back to sleep if you don't tell me what you called me for." 

It's not an idle threat, knowing Noctis, so Gladio starts talking, refusing to let the prince hang up on him. 

"Iris is insisting you come to her first boy-girl birthday party. Dad's got to work late as usual, so guess who's left chaperoning?" 

There's a pause on the other line as he hears the bed sheets rustling, imagining Noctis is at least finally starting to wake himself up to carry on a proper conversation. 

"I'm not going." 

The hell he isn't. Even if Gladio has to drag his ass out of bed and carry him all the way to his family home, he's definitely going. He refuses to suffer an entire room full of twelve year olds on his own. 

"You want to run that by me again?"

"Get your latest girlfriend to go," Noctis snaps back, and the irritation is tightly laced into his voice, reminding Gladio just how cantankerous the prince gets in the mornings. 

Anyone else would have lost their patience with him by now, his own hanging together by a few loose threads. 

"First of all, I'm not seeing anyone right now, so you're stuck. Second of all, you want to make Iris upset? I wouldn't bug you about it otherwise." 

There's another long pause on the other line that makes Gladio think Noctis actually hung up on him for a second, but then he hears the prince heave out a quiet, resigned sigh.

"What time?" 

"Tomorrow, 1900 hours sharp. Don't be late." 

That makes Gladio's own expression settle into a more relaxed grin. Noctis might be going through a never-ending moody teenage phase, but he's still got a soft spot for his little sister. It's one of the first few things that even endeared him to Noctis' existence because up until then, he hadn't really observed him caring for anyone else but himself. Their years together have taught him the opposite -he actually cares a great deal about his people even if he hasn't come to accept yet that they will be 'his people' one day. He doesn't think there's a single person in Insomnia he wouldn't try and help if the opportunity presented himself, and it's a little known fact that he spends some of his weekends doing part-time work as a line cook in some of the dankest soup kitchens he's seen in Insomnia's more run-down neighborhoods. The refugee situation probably weighs more on his mind than he'd ever like to admit, especially since the crown is on the receiving end of a lot of hate for it. Promoting a lot of the refugees to members of the Kingsglaive went a long way in bandaging some of the wounds, but it didn't fix the situation entirely. There's still a lot of political unrest the further from the urban zones one gets.

True to his word, Noctis does arrive the next evening dressed in dark jeans and a black t-shirt and a jacket tossed over that probably costs as much as a down payment for a car. Iris is the first to greet him, practically fidgeting in place with her hands clasped behind her back before she grabs the prince by the forearm and drags him in.

"I can't believe you came! Brother said you'd probably sleep through it and not to get my hopes up!" 

Judging by his lethargic expression, Gladio wouldn't have been surprised if that did happen. Maybe he should have a little more faith in Noctis' ability to keep his promises -not to himself but definitely to Iris. 

"Come on, I'm not that bad," Noctis responds before awkwardly holding out a nicely-wrapped present for Iris.

Considering the wrapping isn't haphazardly covered in nine yards of tape, Gladio assumes that Ignis wrapped it for him, possibly even picked out whatever is inside. He can't imagine Noctis walking anywhere within fifty yards of a department store, but maybe he actually did bother to do his own shopping for once. 

"Happy Birthday," he tells her, voice quiet as a small smile hovers at the edge of his lips that Gladio finds himself admiring.

Iris all but explodes with exuberance as she wraps her arms tightly around Noctis' waist and pushes her face into his chest to hug him. 

"You didn't have to, Noct, ...but I'm glad." 

Her attention then turns towards the nicely wrapped present to give it a quick jostle. 

"What is it? I want to unwrap it already." 

Noctis' hand climbs awkwardly to the back of his neck to rub it as he gives her a shrug. "Just something I picked out. Nothing big." 

Feeling a little sorry for the guy, Gladio decides to swoop in to rescue him by trapping him under his arm and dragging him further inside his house. "You'll unwrap them all later," Gladio absently informs Iris over his shoulder, "just leave it over by the other gifts." 

They find a couch to try and occupy, though all of Iris' friends instantly congregate around the prince, some gaping openly at him while others ask him questions that he knows Noctis is in no mood to answer. He watches Noctis' eyes dart around as his back and shoulders are fused with tension, stiff and curled in as he tries to keep up with the conversation. Iris doesn't seem too bothered about not being the center of attention herself, instead leaning in with rapt fascination as she takes in every word he says like he's offering some gold nuggets of wisdom instead of just mumbling about life in the palace.

After about half an hour of torment, Gladio finds himself again swooping in to rescue Noctis from the horrors of social interaction and interrupting the ongoing question and answer session.

"Alright, that's enough. Didn't you have some party games planned?" he makes a shooing motion towards Iris' general direction as his little sister's cheeks balloon outwards in annoyance.

"But I wanted to talk more to Noct! Why doesn't he play with us?" 

"Play...?" Noctis repeats, already looking like a cornered animal as he tries to push himself as far against the corner of the couch as possible. 

"Yeah!" 

Of course, the other kids chime in, and drag Noctis off the couch to join them in a giant circle. Noctis still looks like he's trying to shrink back in on himself as his eyes keep sweeping around the room to avoid the fact that everyone's attention hasn't left him since he'd walked in through the door. It's becoming a little painfully apparent why the guy avoids parties, and Gladio can't exactly blame him. Leading a conversation has never been his strength let alone getting along with strangers, and his absence of grace and aplomb leaves him floundering to a comedic degree.

His hands sit in his lap as one of Iris' friends suggests a rousing game of Truth or Dare. The only one not happy with the suggestion is Noctis who looks about ten shades paler than he did when he arrived. He's also the first one targeted by the young girl who smiles widely as she asks the prince, " _Truth or Dare?_ " 

"I don't want to play," is his immediate response. 

"Come on," Iris pleads, both her hands grabbing onto his right arm to keep him anchored down. 

The whole while, Gladio rests his back against the wall, watching curiously and debating if he should plan a third rescue for the evening. On the other hand, it is fun watching him squirm, and it does keep Iris distracted from the fact that their dad's not here. He knows how disappointed she'd been that he couldn't make it home that evening. Like Noctis, they had also lost their mother when they were fairly young, so they'd become more tight-knit with their father and their servants as a result. He'd been raised as a soldier since day one, but it's different for Iris who actually goes to school regularly and lives a relatively normal life. She's always wanted a tighter nuclear family, so any chance to spoil her and make her happy is one he takes. 

Lucky for her, Noctis is also pretty soft-hearted when she turns up those big eyes towards him. His resolve crumbles into ash, and he hears the prince murmur a quiet, "Fine. Truth," before he reaches for the back of his neck again, thin, pale fingers absently toying with the short hairs there. His own fingers often itch to touch the same spot, especially when Noctis' usual response to the caress is to bow his head like a cat and close his eyes, practically melting into the touch. Maybe if he can squeeze some alone time later tonight, he'll indulge himself for a bit, but he's content just watching his pretty face break out into a sweat right now. 

The other kids have crowded in closer by now, staring Noctis down as Iris' friend exchanges devious glances with another girl in the group. "Do you have a crush?" she finally asks.

Noctis' eyes dart off to the side, pointedly avoiding anyone else's gaze as he struggles with how to answer that. For a breath-holding moment, Gladio thinks he might actually answer honestly, but instead, Noctis says, "Changed my mind. Dare." 

The young girl visibly pouts at him before telling him, "You know, refusing to answer the question means you probably do." 

"She's got a point," Gladio unhelpfully chimes in, and now, Noctis is firing a glare at him.

"But since you said dare," she continues, "then I dare you to kiss the birthday girl." 

If Noctis hadn't looked terrified enough before, he definitely looks it now as his face seemingly turns another few shades whiter and his fingers clench by his sides. His whole body language reads like he's going to bolt from the floor any seconds now, and this time, when he does look at Gladio, it's with a mix between appearing helpless and apologetic. 

Iris is clutching her own cheeks next to him, her features growing flushed as she tries to hide her nervous excitement. While Gladio knows nothing in the world would make her happier in the world right now, he also doesn't exactly want Noctis to hold the honor of having her first kiss -especially since he's pretty sure he holds the honor of having Noctis' first kiss. It's just a little too strange for him to wrap his mind around, and he has a pretty good idea by now that Noctis' interests lean a little away from his sister's type. Not to mention she's a good five years his junior and definitely not old enough to be kissing boys. 

Before Iris can cross the threshold between them, Gladio grabs a hold of Noctis by the back of his jacket to hoist him up off the ground one-handed as the prince nearly trips over his own feet in surprise. Only a single hand on his shoulder steadies him before Gladio tells the group, "That's enough of that. Unlike most fairy tales, everyone this prince kisses turns into a frog. Someone's got to protect the girls from him." 

A few girls giggle at those words while Iris is back to puffing her cheeks out in irritation at him. 

"Let's give him a break, and you guys can continue playing without him. No more kissing dares, either." 

There's a collective atmosphere of disappointment in the room, most of it still emanating from Iris, but Gladio ignores it in favor of dragging Noctis up to the second floor where his own childhood room is. He'd long since moved out on his own into an apartment closer to the Citadel, but he still comes to use it from time to time, especially on nights like this. Everything is as pristine as he left it, though he realizes it's also Noctis' first time visiting it. 

His eyes follow the prince as he wanders inside, watching curiously as Noctis' hand brush over each of the picture frames. His interest then shifts to an expansive book shelf, and Noctis' fingers move across the different book spines, trying to read some of the titles out loud. 

"I didn't know you could read old Lucian...," he murmurs quietly after a moment.

"There's a lot you don't know about me. Mostly because you never _ask_." He emphasizes the last part with a pointed look because he doesn't exactly keep any of this secret. Noctis just doesn't ever express much interest in having actual conversations that don't devolve quickly into the two of them sniping insults at each other back and forth. At least, he seems invested now as he spends his time carefully pulling books out of the shelf and flipping through them.

His eyes squint trying to read one particular passage out loud before Gladio snatches it from his hands and tells him, "Be careful with that one. It's an old classic. Still has the original leather bound cover." 

"I'm surprised any of those words make sense to you." 

Gladio chuckles lightly at the comment. "I forget you only read books with pictures in them. You'd be surprised how much you'd learn about your own history and heritage inside of these. They talk all about the philosophies of the old Lucian kings, what motivated and shaped them to rule the way they did. Some were harsher than others. Some were dedicated to justice and saw the word of the law as impenetrable. Some were even slightly mad." 

Which king would Noctis be one day? Looking at him now, it's difficult to really predict. Maybe he'll be misunderstood and harshly criticized, or maybe, he'll be beloved for his grace and benevolence. All Gladio knows is he has a long road up ahead of him and dozens of battles to fight together with him before they can finally get Noctis on that throne. He's almost praying at this point that King Regis doesn't die soon because he knows at least one glaring truth already: Noctis isn't ready. 

That becomes all the more obvious as Noctis stands in front of him, sniffing the book instead of reading it and scrunching his nose up at the acrid smell of worn leather. 

"What exactly died to make the cover of this book?" 

Figures that would be his first priority after he just told him the bulk of his family's history is recorded within those pages. Gladio shakes his head at him and puts the book back on the shelf. "You're welcome to read for a bit while you're here. I'll be back up later. Got to make sure those kids aren't doing anything inappropriate down there." 

"So basically anything you'd do," Noctis points out, which earns him a raised eyebrow from Gladio.

"Just behave, and I'm coming after you in your sleep if any of my books get damaged." 

He catches sight of the prince making himself at home and grabbing another book before laying across his bed. It shouldn't have the effect it does on him, but Gladio finds his eyes lingering on the sight of him sprawled across the same spot he'd lain so many times, dragging his gaze slowly over the length of his lean body and the scattered dark hair all around his head. He's tempted to walk back inside and make a mess of him over those sheets, only restricted by the fact that his dad's expecting him to keep a good eye on a room full of boisterous twelve year olds. Indulgence would have to wait for the time being, committing the visual to memory for later before closing the door.

The rest of the evening is spent watching the boys and girls stand on separate sides of the room and chat while the latest pop hits are cycled through the radio. Gladio picks at some of the food for something to do and tries to ignore the sight of Iris' friends constantly pointing at him and whispering to one another. He supposes things could be worse. By the next time he's free to check up on Noctis, the prince is predictably fast asleep on his bed, curled up with one of his books clutched in his hand, a fictional one about a boy befriending a dragon. It's an old classic he read as a kid, so he's not surprised Noctis would gravitate to one of 'easier' reads. It also does have a lot of nice pictures in it. 

He absently grabs a spare blanket from his closet before covering him in it, and his fingers linger over his hair, dancing along the soft ends of it as he stares at Noctis' sleeping face. Up until recently, he had a hard time admitting to himself just how much he likes looking at him because no matter how attractive he thinks Noctis is, he can be the most insufferable person to deal with on a daily basis. But there are also times he's so endeared by him that he wonders if he'd ever feel the same kind of complicated amalgam of emotions for any girl he dates. It's hard to compare him to anyone else when he exists on a weird plain of his own where Gladio knows undoubtedly he's not in love with him but still feels something dangerously close to resembling love emerging. How does he stop it from getting out of control if it gets to that point? He's not sure he would be able to, which leaves him with mixed feelings as he continues to let Noctis occupy the most intimate space in his life right now. 

A small voice by the door -Iris'- startles him out of his reverie, fingers quickly withdrawing from Noctis' hair as his head whips towards his sister's voice. He manages to keep his own surprise at bay, trying not to look like he hadn't been doing anything out of the ordinary as he regards her.

"Something wrong?" 

"I just wanted to see if Noct was going to join us for some cake, but he's still sleeping, isn't he?" 

"Yep. Nothing short of the end of the world can wake him now." 

Probably for the best. The more he looks at him, the easier it is to make out some of the dark circles under his eyes, making him wonder if he had been getting as much sleep as he boasts he does. It couldn't hurt to let him nap a while longer.

The prince remains curled up on his bed until close to midnight when the last guest leaves. Iris is already getting ready to bed, and Gladio knows Ignis will be there any second to pick Noctis up. His hand moves across his back to try and shake him awake while Noctis inevitably groans deep in his throat before rolling onto his back to stare up at him.

"How long was I out?" 

"Too long. You slept through the most of the party." 

Noctis doesn't look particularly bothered by that fact as he yawns into his knuckles. His hair has decided at some point to stick up towards one side, creating an interesting effect that Gladio can't help at chuckle at before he tries to smooth it down for him. "Can't say it was anything resembling beauty sleep. You should see yourself." 

The prince pushes his hands away irritably before rolling his neck and trying to rouse himself completely, though he gives him no sign of moving from his bed at all. Instead, he moves more towards the center of it and absently tangles his fingers in the front of Gladio's shirt to yank him down. It's the boldest invitation Gladio's seen from him in a while, following the trajectory of his arms until their lips touch, and Noctis lets out a shaky breath against his mouth that ends with a tiny smile. Just what had he been dreaming about to get him in the mood like this? Not that Gladio is complaining, his control over the situation rapidly unraveling by the second as the rest of his body shifts to touch over Noctis'. 

Underneath him, the prince is all limbs and harsh angles that instantly arch to press against him, legs moving apart to slide along his thighs as his fingers dance over his back. It's become a habit by now for Noctis' fingers to crawl right under his shirt the moment they start kissing and move over the inked skin there, touching over the vivid black patterns with something close to reverence before his blunt nails skid up along the space between his shoulder blades. His breaths keep coming out hot and heavy against his own open mouth as Noctis brazenly jerks up towards him, hard and eager where he presses his groin straight against his hip bone to rub against it. There's no hesitation at all to the act, like Noctis' own self-consciousness had been shredded to pieces at some indiscernible time of the night, and Gladio welcomes it like a starving man, drinking every drop of desperation from his lips and down his throat, mouth moving over the curve of his adam's apple before he stills them where his shoulder meets his neck, that small juncture that makes Noctis' whole body jolt and tighten around him when he bites into it.

Suddenly, one of Noctis' hands blindly finds its way to his hair, twisting into it sharply and wrenching Gladio down towards him at the same time his legs lock around him, and he sees how tightly he clenches his teeth, the way his face transforms from relaxed to absolutely feral as something close to a growl emerges from his throat. It's a sound that ripples straight through Gladio's body, leaves heat puddling between his thighs and reverberating outwards in strong waves that make him want to grind Noctis into the mattress. His body is already ahead of him on that one, thrusting forward through his clothes, moving between the prince's spread thighs with every desire to sink right into him, to be enveloped and choked by the heat inside of him as Noctis actively encourages it with each savage tug of his hair. 

Noctis' teeth find their way to his shoulder next as his own pace grows frenzied and impetuous, and Gladio's desperate to feel every part of him come undone, pushing his own hands under Noctis shirt to trace over the lean muscles there and caress between them. He draws Noctis' torso closer to himself at the same time, finding himself so inexorably wrapped up in his body and in the sheer tidal wave of warmth coming off it, leaving him intoxicated. Noctis' resounding groan ends up muffled into his shoulder as Gladio's hands trace down the sides of his body all the way to his thighs and underneath, cupping his ass and pulling their groins together to rub their bodies deliriously tight to one another while trying to build as much friction as he can through all the fabric.

If he knew it wouldn't freak Noctis out, he'd suggest stripping down to avoid the inevitable mess, but at this point, Noctis is not letting him stop at all to think or breathe as he rubs himself more insistently into the front of his pants and finally withdraws his mouth from its perch on his shoulder to breathe his name into his ear. He sounds like a broken disc when he ends up repeating it, but Gladio doesn't care, milking out every whispered repetition because he doesn't know when and if he'll ever get Noctis to loosen up this much in front of him. All he knows is that he's immediately addicted to the sight, sound, touch, and the smell of his body against him, wrapped up around him, bleeding into him like a second skin as he pushes down harder, applies enough pressure with his hips that Noctis just snaps in two underneath him. 

He knows the exact moment, too, feeling Noctis lurch up against him with his entire body as his fingers suddenly latch onto his shoulder blades. Both sets of nails pierce in, and Noctis's voice wraps around several curse words that tumble one after the other as he comes into the tight and wrinkled fabric of his pants. Gladio's still got a bit of a ways to go himself, but he stops just to give Noctis some room to breathe as his hand absently combs the prince's hair back for him. He feels him shaking and rattled underneath him before Noctis covers his face with his two hands and lets out a very eloquent, " _Fuck._ " 

The sound of it makes Gladio crack a smile as he keeps brushing his hair back away from his forehead. "I take it you liked that." 

The prince nods wordlessly with his face still covered, looking embarrassed about his own reaction, and Gladio has to pry the hands away to get a good look at his face as he finds himself fixated on his flushed skin and the swell of his lips where they try to purse together to control his panting a little. 

"Sorry," Noctis apologizes between heavy breaths, "your bed... I shouldn't have-" 

"Better here than in the Citadel," Gladio remarks with a shrug, and he remains holding Noctis' hands captive, trying to quickly brand the sight of him like this into his head. It's weird to think of him as anything even closely resembling beautiful, so he chalks up that singular disturbing thought as a side effect from not having come yet himself. 

He moves to lean down and kiss his mouth again when Noctis suddenly lurches up again. This time, it's because his phone is ringing, and Gladio already knows it's probably Ignis. Perfect timing as usual. As much as it aches to move off of him right now, he does pry his body off so Noctis can answer the phone. 

"Yeah, I'll be right there," Noctis says after a moment, sealing Gladio's fate for the night. A quick shower and more personal time with his hand. He feels like he hasn't had to get himself off this much since he was thirteen, but he doesn't want to keep Ignis waiting.

"Let me get you a clean pair of pants before you head out. If Ignis asks, just tell him you dropped food on yourself." 

"Clean ...pants?" Noctis repeats dumbfounded.

The orgasm must have rattled his mind pretty badly if he has to point this out to him. His finger indicates the stain now decorating the fabric, and Noctis replies with an embarrassed "oh" before he starts quickly removing them. Luckily, Gladio still has a few clothes left over from his own earlier years, but they still ride too low on Noctis' hips and he has to roll the bottom hems up so he doesn't trip over himself as he heads down the stairs. Before his hand reaches the door knob, Gladio takes his chin in his grip and jerks his face towards his own so he can steal a kiss for himself, one that Noctis returns without hesitation. 

It's hard to release him after, especially when he's still combing his memories and trying to figure out what changed about Noctis tonight -what set him off. Was it really just having him over at this place that finally got him to let some of his guard down? If that's the case, he might have to invite him over more often.   

 

**009.**

 

The music pounds loudly through the walls, lights poured over a sea of bodies that drown him in its midst. Noctis is almost glad for the reprieve after spending so long trapped indoors studying. With their final exams finally over and high school behind them, it's their first night of freedom, and he and Prompto decided rather than spending so long mulling over the future, they'd at least take the night out to celebrate. Tomorrow, they can wake up and bathe in all the fears and uncertainties, but tonight, they lose themselves in the rhythm of a fuzz guitar riff that electrifies the venue.

He's lost track of what he's drank -how much of it- just knows it sloshes inside of his system and makes his head swim as Prompto cheers beside him. His voice is lost among the crowd, several other bodies dancing, grinding, pushing against one another, and Noctis tries to follow along with the set only his head starts to spin every couple of seconds, leaving him to try and reorient himself. At some point, his arms find their way around Prompto's neck -maybe by the fifth or sixth drink-, and they dance without any of the usual self-consciousness, Prompto's hands pawing at his waist while Noctis knocks their foreheads together. 

When he leans in too close, he smells something tropical and heady on his breath that makes him want to chase his mouth with his own, but he tells himself it's just alcohol creeping into his head at this point, making him long for the closeness of another body and making him indiscriminate as to which. It's hard to cull the urge to surrender to it as Prompto's fingers play with the back of his shirt, and Prompto laughs low and unrestrained against his cheek before leaning in towards his ear to yell into it, "That girl's checking you out! Blue-haired girl!" 

Noctis' eyes follow Prompto's line of sight to a girl at the bar who smiles and waves her glitter-painted nails at him. His eyes won't move past her maroon lipstick that looks black under the neon lights. 

"So?" 

There's a frustrated noise that comes out of Prompto as he gives him a hard shake with both hands around his hips now. It's enough to tilt his center of gravity a bit, leaving Noctis clawing a bit at his arms so he doesn't fall backwards. 

"Man, you're really dense sometimes, Noct. You gonna talk to her or not?" 

His gaze flickers back to the girl again, eyes momentarily picking up the piercings on her bottom lip. There's probably more on her body, hidden in various secret places. He feels like he'd lacerate himself on them if he dances too close to her, so he shakes his head. 

"Not really." 

Prompto's sigh is defeated, but he helps keep him steady through the rest of the song. They leave shortly after because Noctis can no longer see straight and Prompto's starting to look a little green around his freckles. With their combined effort, they manage to make it on the street in one piece before Noctis remembers he'd shut his phone earlier that night some time around the fifth or sixth call from Ignis. He hadn't told him where he'd be -hadn't told anyone because he didn't want to be followed around by the 'royal retinue' for once. He'd even made a shallow effort to disguise himself with a beanie pulled low over his head and glasses …which he'd lost somewhere. 

"Should we …um… car?" Prompto asks, his words slurred at the ends while they stand on the corner. 

Noctis struggles to keep a grip on his phone, counting eleven missed calls by then. Ten from Ignis, one from Gladio. It's the last one in the entire group, and the one Noctis ends up pressing first. 

"Where the hell were you?" Gladio barks on the other line right away, loud enough for Prompto to hear without even having the phone right up against his ear.

"He was with me!" Prompto answers for him, and Noctis makes a sound of agreement.

"Went out." 

"Do you guys know what time it is?! Never mind that, Ignis has been driving around looking for you idiots for hours." 

Even through the haze of alcohol, Noctis can still feel guilt curdle along the edge of his stomach, knowing he should have said something. It doesn't make him apologize, but he does remain quiet as he hears Gladio moving through his apartment. 

"Just stay where you are. I'll pick you up and take you home. Might as well give Ignis the rest of the night off." 

He and Prompto end up waiting on one of the street corners, leaning heavily against one another until exhaustion takes a hold of them. By the time Gladio arrives, Prompto is sprawled out on the ground with his back leaning on the street sign and Noctis' head cushioned in his lap as he sleeps heavily on him. He's barely aware of when he's moved or how, only knows he wakes up hours later on his apartment sofa still wearing the same clothes he had last night. 

Gladio's sleeping on the sofa chair nearby, head tilted back, mouth open, and a quiet snore spilling out. It's a struggle to put all the pieces together, but it's sort of obvious how he managed to get to his apartment in one piece. He's definitely not looking forward to dual lecture he'll get from Gladio and Ignis so he tries to tiptoe past Gladio's passed out body to get to the bathroom and dip his head beneath warm water to ease some of the erratic pounding coming from inside, a plan that quickly fails when Gladio's arm suddenly swings out towards him and latches around his waist to stop him fully. 

"You smell bad and the other one smells even worse." 

Other one? ... _Prompto._ He'd forgotten they'd been together last night, and it makes sense that he'd stay over. Gladio doesn't know where he lives, and Prompto probably was too incapacitated to tell him. How come he got his nice king-sized bed to sleep on, and he got stuck with the couch, though?  

"Was just on the way to fix that problem," Noctis finally responds, prying Gladio's arm off.

His escape is cut short when Gladio slides out of the chair and forces him to turn around and look at him. "How long are you going to make Ignis clean up your messes? You're no longer in school, Noct! Isn't it time you start getting your act together!?" 

There's the anger he'd been waiting for, the words being spat out in his face as Gladio uses his bulk to his advantage and stares him down. Not one to ever be intimidated, Noctis pushes back -because he _always_ pushes back. 

"It was just one night. Nothing happened. What are you? My dad now?"

Gladio's nostrils flare slightly, eyes narrowing before he grabs him by the shirt to yank him in close until they're nose to nose. 

"Some days, I don't want to be anything of yours," he practically snarls out before shoving him away in disgust. 

His back hits the wall none too softy, and it feels like his brain is shaken loose in his head from the impact with how much the room around him seems to grow unsteady. The ground doesn't feel hard beneath him, and his legs move like gelatin as he tries to get on a grip on reality once more. All he can register is Gladio's retreating back as he heads for the door then slams it so loud that it practically rattles against his hinges. 

That sinking guilt now feels more prominent than ever where it knots at the base of esophagus, begging to come up and bring all the contents of his stomach with it. Only sheer force of will keeps last night's food down, but Prompto is nowhere near as lucky, something he discovers as he peaks in and finds the mess on the floor by his bed. The garbage can that had been conveniently left there for him remains woefully empty.

"Really, Prompto?" he groans before sinking to sit at the foot by the bed to give him some company. 

In the end, Gladio's right. He's _always_ right. He hadn't been thinking at all when he'd snuck out, but the taste of freedom's always addictive. He simply hadn't wanted to be a prince for a few hours -live life like any other teenager- but some days, it feels like no matter how far he runs, his destiny is always waiting to grab him from behind, to shackle his arms, veil his eyes, and drag him backwards into its tight embrace. Why does he even bother at this point? 

It'd be so much easier if he just lived up to everyone's expectations because Gladio's words always sting hard, reminding him he's constantly fighting an uphill battle to earn everyone's respect -and constantly losing. And he knows if not for their obligations, Gladio and Ignis would never waste any energy worrying for him or having to look after him.

Maybe the two of them would even be far better off being able to pursue their own dreams and desires. Maybe they wouldn't ever find reason to resent him for keeping away from what they really want to do. 

Gladio, especially, probably never even wanted to get all embroiled in any kind of relationship with him, but the problem there is- when it's good, it's _so_ good. And when it's bad, it's unbearable between them. He's thought several times about breaking things off completely, but the loneliness would get to him. As it is, he doesn't have a lot of people he can let his guard down around or show any vulnerability to, but Gladio doesn't tease him for it, almost welcomes that kind of emotional release out of him. 

There's a lot of things he's done and shared with him that he hasn't even brought himself to discuss with his best friend, though glancing at Prompto now he almost wishes he could. It's hard to bottle up what he's feeling right now inside his head, especially when the words prick incessantly at his tongue and warm tears bite at the edges of his eyelids, trying to escape. Instead, he calls a cab for him and sends him safely home, leaving him alone to clean up Prompto's mess -to clean up his own mess, too. 

A week ends up passing by where he doesn't hear from Gladio at all, but Ignis still drops by as scheduled to bring him notes from his meetings and to assist him with laundry, cooking, the usual essentials. They don't exchange more than a few words, and Noctis has enough sense not to ask about Gladio. He'll talk to him when he's ready to talk to him. 

He does try and keep his training up on his own, sparring against some of the dummies set up around the Citadel's training grounds. Two of them end up charred from sheer frustration, and the members of the Kingsglaive idly watch him as they pass by, giving each other uncomfortable looks. Do they even recognize him as his father's son? Probably not. His visits have become less frequent. 

On the weekends, he continues to do his line cook job and stares at all the anguished faces that pass by in front of him, sending him curious looks. They don't know he's the prince either, and there's comfort in the quiet way they regard him. Noctis doesn't even have to force a smile when he serves them. 

By the eighth day, he calls to check if Gladio is even alive anymore, and Iris tells him he's gone on a camping trip with his new girlfriend.

By the ninth day, Noctis changes his own training regimen and decides he's going to point warp his way up the Citadel then let himself fall until he almost hits the ground before warping back up. Each time, he reaches fifty feet and looks down below fearlessly, practically daring gravity to scare him. After that, he starts running laps in the rain until he's soaked to the bone and leaking too much fluid from his nostrils. 

By the eleventh day, he's sliced one of the replacement training dummies in half with a great sword and almost misses the light amused snort behind him before Gladio comes into view. He's dressed more casually than he's used to seeing him, a black tank top wrapped tight around his torso and worn denim jeans. His own sword is slung over his shoulder as he inspects the damage, one hand moving over the edges where Noctis had just sliced through. 

"Not bad, but you're still using too much force on your down swing. You'll tire your arms out too fast that way." 

Noctis runs a hand through his own hair as he swallows down the part of him that actually missed this kind of thing. He hates to think that he'd been counting each day in his head but hadn't really known what else to do really. Calling him directly would be admitting he'd actually been thinking about him _a lot_ , and he doesn't want to give Gladio the satisfaction of knowing how deeply his words cut under his skin this time. 

"Did you come all the way here just to tell me that?" 

"No, I came here to train. Was hoping I'd find a suitable partner around here, but it looks like I'm stuck with just you." 

He can't contain the eye roll at the too obvious insult, but instead of firing one back at him, he summons his own sword again, relishing in the familiar weight of it as he stares Gladio down.  

"Come on," he goads, lifting his hand in a taunting motion as he urges Gladio to charge at him. 

In an instant, Gladio's ready to take him down in one swing, sword slicing downwards and leaving Noctis only a millisecond to raise his own and parry it. While Gladio has the clear size and strength advantage, he's gotten better at pushing his own momentum enough to force him off and throwing the sword just under his arm so he can warp behind him and kick him from the back. There's something gratifying in watching Gladio stumble forward and struggle to catch himself before swinging his sword around in a vicious arc to try and catch him. 

Noctis narrowly jumps back and feels the sharp edge whoosh over his stomach before he leaps up and lands on the edge of his sword to bring it down with his weight. It works on disabling Gladio for a moment so he can run up the length of it and get a leg over Gladio's shoulder to drag him down to the ground with himself. He doesn't manage to get that far as Gladio grabs a hold of his thighs and easily throws him face-first into the ground. 

His boot is about to press into his lower back when Noctis rolls out of the way and throws the sword from his spot on the ground just so he can regain some footing by warping behind Gladio. Again, he strikes out towards Gladio's backside, lowering the sword towards one of his shoulders and stopping with the blade hovering over it, just barely close to slicing him. 

"Not bad," Gladio comments as he puts his arms up like he's surrendering, "you've actually been practicing while I was away." 

Those words present a sordid reminder that Gladio hadn't even told him he was going away at all. He had to hear it from his sister, of all people. If he did it just to piss him off, it worked wonders because Noctis really does feel cutting through him right now. To avoid temptation, he makes the sword in his hands dissolve into blue particles before he lets out a single, calming breath. 

It doesn't work at all to ameliorate the fact that his blood is boiling savagely from inside his veins, and he cards a hand through his hair before turning away to kick what's left of the dummy onto the ground. He's satisfied when it startles Gladio, enjoying getting some kind of reaction out of him after over a week of nothing. 

"Plan on telling me what's bugging you? No, of course not." Gladio makes a derisive sound before continuing, "I'm getting really sick of this." 

"Then let's end it." 

Even though he's the one he says it, the words dig violently through his heart just hearing them from his own mouth because it's not really what he wants. But it's probably what Gladio wants, an open, honest, and uncomplicated relationship. All the things he just can't give him because of what he is. How far could it have gone between them anyway? He definitely can't marry him, and even dating him is a far-stretch when Noctis' life is so public. The center of so many rumors and gossip, he's never felt like any part of his life has ever been his own. 

Whatever he had with Gladio had been the closest thing to intimacy he's ever felt, and he's starting to realize that it won't last. Good things never do, so he might as well cut it off before he gets too complacent. 

Gladio's expression becomes unreadable as he graces him with a single nod and picks up his sword from the ground. "If that's what you want," he concedes, but he doesn't seem wholly convinced.

Noctis is definitely doing his best to sound certain, but his chest is still aching from the thought of never being able to draw Gladio's body against him, never being able to inhale the sweat clinging to his neck or taste his warm breath on his tongue. He likes the way his mouth fits against his, the way his hands cradle his shoulder blades when they embrace, the way his hips dig into his own when he's hungry and frantic, the way his forehead rests against his when they both have just come and need to calm down from that delirious high. 

And it's not because it's addictive that he likes it. It's because it's comfortable, and that's not something he gets to feel very often anymore.

"I don't know what I want," he finally confesses, and those words alone open a tightly tethered floodgate as he turns to face Gladio fully, forcing himself not to run this time. "Do you really like this new girl? I don't want to hold you back, but…" 

He pauses, still struggling to find the right words as his eyes suddenly slide to the ground. He's losing his nerve quickly, and his fingers are starting to fidget with the hem of his shirt as he desperately searches for something - _anything_ \- to say.

Fortunately, Gladio cuts him off, "Forget about the girl for a second. What do _you_ want?" 

What _does_ he want indeed? Noctis thinks it should be obvious enough by now, but he's never once said it out loud, isn't even sure if he can admit now because the extent of his want does scare him sometimes.

Yet, out comes the single word: "…you." 

It's a simple, quiet admittance, but he feels like it changes everything. From that moment on, he's no longer the boy who's just experimenting and trying to 'figure things out.' He's already figured it out, and what he's figured out is that he and Gladio will never be 'just friends' with each other nor will they be 'just the king and his shield.' It's far too late for all of that, and he lets that thought sink in the air before bracing himself for impact. 

Only it never comes, and instead, Gladio calmly grabs him by the forearm and starts leading him across the grass field around the Citadel and towards the indoor gym. He doesn't say anything nor does he stop until they've reached the bathroom stalls, and Noctis is suddenly shoved forward as Gladio steps inside after him and locks the door behind the two of them. It's cramped, but he figures that's the point as Gladio pushes him against the stall door to lean down and kiss him.

His arms quickly dig into Gladio's biceps to drag him closer against himself, mouth opening at the same time to urge his tongue inside, tangling it with his own and enjoying the sudden surge of urgency brimming from Gladio's body. It's hard to ever wrestle any control from him and seeing it splinter against him so fast is strangely gratifying, the sort of thing that he could see himself getting addicted to if he knew anything about pushing Gladio's buttons, but maybe him just being as honest as possible was what finally broke the dam after nearly two years of dancing around each other awkwardly.

Where they'll go from here is something he's both anticipating and fearing, but he decides for now to immerse himself in the rush of heat and arousal as Gladio's hips brush forward, pushing insistently into his stomach while Noctis' own back arches away from the door just so he can partially straddle Gladio's thigh, rubbing himself against the length of it as he pulls his mouth away to bite Gladio's lower lip. From this distance he can see the dark pupils of his eyes drowning out the amber color around it, and there's an intensity in that gaze that he'd once believed could only be reserved for battle. Being the object of his sharp focus in this scenario does leave him on edge as Noctis tries to read what's going on in his head, but he's never been that good at prying people apart -definitely not to the extent that Gladio is towards him. 

It's hard not to feel stripped down in front of him, but he's not letting himself back down at all as he drags his teeth down from Gladio's lips over the stubble on his chin, silently enjoying the way it scratches across his own flesh. He's been growing it out more and more, and there's something inexplicably alluring about touching parts of his own face to it, about feeling it everywhere his own body can reach. Noctis remembers the one time Gladio had slid his jaw across the lines of his bare stomach while they'd been grappling with one another in the middle training, and he had almost shuddered at the sensation. Only the fear of embarrassment had kept him frozen still, but he's definitely struggling with that now as he nuzzles both his own lips and chin down the side of Gladio's neck. 

Gladio tilts his head to watch him curiously as he runs his fingers through his hair and down the back of the head in that deliriously slow manner that also secretly drives him crazy. He never thought something so simple could mess him up so profoundly inside, but every time he touches him like that, he feels himself careening dangerouosly close to the apex of a full-bodied orgasm that threatens to ripple straight through him. 

His legs start to buckle a little as Gladio's rough fingers move down further along the back of his neck, and Noctis knows he's reaching the point where he always struggles to articulate just how close he's getting to bursting and what he needs to get there. With all the heat in his body rapidly swirling across the pit of his stomach and his cock pushing clamorously against the front of his pants, he's lucky if he still remembers how to speak, too rapidly descending into a more primitive state of mind. Gladio's hand then circles around to his front, drawing over the entire length of his stomach before unceremoniously dipping into the waistband of his sweatpants and beneath his underwear to grasp his erection firmly along the curve of his palm. 

The warmth of his skin fuses directly against his cock, surrounding him in a tight squeeze that knocks the breath out of him as Noctis thrusts into it without thinking, desperate to rub himself ragged against the rough and calloused texture of his hand. Both sets of his own fingers have become talons by now, driving hard into Gladio's biceps and dragging the tips over the firm muscles there. If he were in a better state of mind, he'd want to trace them more languidly and gently over the tattoos there like he's quietly fantasized to himself about a million times, but right now, the feathered lines have become a bunch of indiscriminate smudges, lost in all the other little intoxicating details about Gladio's body. All Noctis can keep fixating on are his dark eyes and the way the rich color of his lashes frames them, something he'd only idly noticed in the past.

Right now, he's just dumbly staring at them and growing lost in them as Gladio strokes more fervently along the underside of his cock, cradling it and provoking him into clumsily thrusting into the tight ring he's made with his fingers. The more he clenches the tightly closed digits around him, the maddening it feels, a poignant throbbing sensation erupting along the length of his cock that makes it more difficult to keep staying upright, and Noctis' legs struggle to keep his balance before Gladio's other hand reaches out to steady him, gripping him firmly by the hip.

"I take it that feels good," Gladio comments, face leaning in so that his lips are now hovering next to his ear. 

Though he laments not being able to watch Gladio's eyes anymore, feeling the warm breath from his mouth crawl along the sensitive shell of his ear is more than reasonable compensation, especially when arousal always changes Gladio's voice into a deeper drawl that Noctis instantly worries will shatter him completely if he has to listen to it any longer. 

Probably aware of that, Gladio doesn't let up on whispering to him just as his fingers trace over the throbbing veins protruding from the skin around his cock, following leisurely over the map of them. 

"You know, I think I like you more when you can't talk back to me." 

If his mind wasn't so addled by the sensation of Gladio's fingers tickling over him, he'd have something more clever to say about that. As it is, his head just snaps back with a curse as his hips angle forwards, leaving himself too wide open for Gladio's hand to trail even further under his balls to massage the smooth expanse of skin beneath. The moment he does it is the moment Noctis realizes he made a really stupid mistake in letting his guard down this much because the touch completely eradicates whatever is left of his control.

His whole body bucks away from the door as he chokes out a hoarse sound, and he tries to tell Gladio he's going to come but only manages to half gasp out his name before he abruptly spills into his waiting hand. He feels Gladio's large fingers draw forward once more to wrap tightly around his tip, pumping him fast until he's releasing the rest in quick spurts that end up on Gladio's shirt.

Noctis ends up squeezing his eyes shut immediately after, not wanting to survey the damage as he struggles to get a grip on himself. Little tremors continue to rake up and down his body as Gladio's hand wanders over to his lower back now to try and soothe him. 

"You okay, Noct?" 

Not quite, but Noctis manages a nod anyway as he tries to pluck himself from the bathroom door. His fingers are already reaching down to tuck himself back in, and he pauses afterwards to stare down between them at the front of Gladio's pants, eying the neglected bulge there guiltily. He always ends up finishing first no matter how hard he tries to put it off, but at least, Gladio never seems mad about it. Maybe overly flattered.  

"How about-," Noctis starts before his voice comes out as a rough croak, and he has to swallow before trying again, "How about you? Don't you want to finish, too?" 

"Are you offering for a change? Every other time you always fall asleep on me or run off." 

"Do not. Not _all_ the time," Noctis murmurs sourly, though it is true. He hadn't exactly been prudent about returning the favor mostly because he doesn't want to fumble around awkwardly in front of Gladio or admit outright he still really has no idea make someone get someone turned out, let alone get them off. 

His only frame of reference is Gladio, and well… he's just not as brazen when it comes to touching other people as the older man is, always worried he'll cross some sort of invisible boundary he's not supposed to. The thought alone always makes him uncomfortable even if he's wanted to really touch Gladio for years now, to let his fingers map out and explore every part of his body they can reach. As much as it would ever pain him to admit, he is a good-looking guy - _incredible_ looking if he wants to be brutally honest with himself. Noctis has a hard enough time not being distracted by him whenever they train together, especially when it comes to his arms and the display of tightly corded muscles firmly lining the entire length of them. Those arms -he wants to press his lips to, trap under his fingers, to squeeze, scratch, and greedily brand himself into them, but he could never bring himself to go much further than the occasional anchoring grip whenever he needs something solid under his fingers to help him keep steady.

Maybe it's about time he stops being afraid, knowing he can't keep running forever and creating another wedge between them. It's true what Gladio had said before. He's no longer in school and will have to make tougher decisions down the road. He can't go on avoiding everything because he's afraid, so he forces himself not to shy away as he starts slowly undoing Gladio's pants so he can push the fabric down a bit below the bulge in his underwear. It's hard not to feel intimidated by the sight of him, unabashedly aroused, the curve of his cock giving him a good indication of his size, which is something he hadn't paid exclusive attention to before. He had always avoided staring anywhere below his waist, and now, it's hitting him just how many times he probably left him feeling splintered and frustrated. 

"You know you don't have to do it if you don't want to," Gladio says quietly, probably easily reading his discomfort. 

"I want to," Noctis replies quickly, a little more sharply than intended, but he's not going to give himself the luxury of taking the easy way out this time.

His fingers continue to hook into Gladio's underwear to pull the fabric down as he watches Gladio's cock spring out, and he tries not to let his own self-consciousness cripple him too much as he carefully reaches behind Gladio to knock the toilet lid down so he can gently urge him to sit, giving himself a height advantage for once. It does feel sort of nice to make Gladio have to crane his head up to look at him, and it's one Noctis takes full advantage of as he leans down to kiss him. 

One hand approaches his erection with out-stretched fingers sliding all along the underside as his other hand cups Gladio's cheek, closing around the curve of it to keep their lips touching together. He slowly wriggles his tongue through his lips to lick and taste the inside of Gladio's mouth, enjoying the remnants of mint toothpaste still on his tongue as his fingers simply explore all along the length of Gladio's cock, running up and down the sheer size of it and trying not to feel unimpressive by comparison. It's really hard not to, but he shakes off the feeling as fast as it can form and slowly circles his thumb along the ridge right around the head of his cock before following one of the pulsing veins stretched along the length as Gladio had done to him before.

There's a sense of satisfaction when he hears Gladio groan into the kiss and suddenly reach up with his hands to push his fingers through his hair, winding the strands through his fingers before yanking him forward to devour his lips in earnest. It takes effort not to fall into the trap of just kissing himself numb against his mouth, but he forces his hand to keep moving, fingers starting to wrap more firmly around his girth and clench gently around the base before stroking upwards. When Gladio rewards him with another groan, he feels his hand grow bolder in its grip, drawing just a bit tighter and applying pressure between swift caresses.

It seems to work well for a while as Gladio's whole body starts to move with him, hips pumping up and off the toilet lid as he breaks the kiss to breathe loudly into his neck before pressing drunken little kisses everywhere he can reach. It feels good to have Gladio's wet mouth dancing over his skin, but it also makes it all the more difficult to concentrate on what he's doing with his hands when his whole body wants to be overwhelmed by Gladio a second time. He stamps down that urge stubbornly and gives him an exasperated look that makes Gladio laugh warmly against his throat.

"Do you want to end up doing this yourself again?" Noctis threatens.

"I might just have to. You're really bad at this." 

Those words make Noctis squeeze him a little hard, feeling gratified when Gladio lets out a loud curse just as his body jerks back.

"Hey, be careful with that!" 

That ought to teach him not to make fun of him when his cock's trapped in his grip, though Noctis doesn't feel any less frustrated trying to figure out how to make this feel good for him. Gladio hardly ever has to expend any effort to get him worked up, and here he is, trying not to sprain his wrist as he keeps stroking along the length of Gladio's arousal with no real idea if any of this feels good or not for him.

"It'd help if you would just tell me how you want it done," he finally grumbles as his eyes shift back and forth from Gladio's face to his lap, looking for any signs of progress.

Gladio reaches out to slow his hand down to a halt before heaving out a sigh. "Well, first of all, you're getting irritated and tense like you always do when you don't get something right the first time."

Not exactly a lie at all, and Noctis fights to keep his face from burning with shame at that observation. 

"Relax your grip and don't pull." 

His fingers obediently loosen around him as he tries to soften up the rough caresses from before into a gentle rubbing motion. Gladio makes a sound of approval as his own hand wraps around his, guiding him along and pressing his cock up into the touch as his hips move off the toilet lid.

"Good… better… now use your other hand-"

He takes Noctis' other hand and moves it around his balls, cradling the soft sacs there as he teaches him how to massage them carefully. Noctis tries to avoid the immediate instinct to squeeze anything again, instead focusing on Gladio's face as it starts to smooth out with pleasure, the beginnings of ecstasy painting its way across his normally sharp features and creating a mesmerizing expression in its wake. Noctis feels his own throat start to go dry just from watching him, wondering why he really hadn't ever noticed how intricate and feral the bones on his face are molded -the way his strong jaw line screams imperiousness like Noctis' never could. He strikes a powerful image, and it's not the first time Noctis has felt dwarfed by it, struggling to measure up to him all these years. Could he ever stand on an even playing field with him?

He's still trying to catch up now, but he always keeps falling back into the trainee role, fumbling as he attempts to focus on the way Gladio's hands move over his, guiding him and teaching him exactly how he likes being touched and stroked.

"Maybe when you're more advanced, you can even use your mouth for something better than complaining." 

Noctis fights the urge to roll his eyes at that before suddenly deciding why the hell not? If Gladio's going to spend the whole time belittling his lack of experience and toting his own in front of him, he might as well try and shut him up. 

_Except._

Except he's never really thought of putting his mouth anywhere below someone's waistline before, having always been severely grossed out by the idea. It's not as though he's unfamiliar with the concept. He's overheard enough locker room talk in high school to have a pretty good idea of what it necessarily entails and why it feels good, but beyond that, he had never pictured himself in the position of doing it to anyone nor receiving. But now, faced with the same prospect, he can't see a reason why he shouldn't at least try once. Just the look on Gladio's face would make it worth it. 

It takes a few seconds to drag out enough confidence to slowly lower his head, hovering his mouth over that general area. With Gladio watching him curiously, he forces himself not to back out as his tongue reaches out to tentatively touch the tip. It's just one small lick, and it's not as bad as Noctis had thought it would be, unable to taste anything except the usual salt-flavor skin has. He can feel Gladio's gaze still following him closely, and it's difficult to ignore it as he draws his tongue over him again, this time extending it over the flesh along the underside of his arousal and dragging it from base to the tip. Again, nothing particularly unusual about the sensation, and he does take interest in the way Gladio's thighs twitch on either side of his head as both his hands have now moved to grab his hair, twisting and tugging on it gently.

"Well, if you're going to go for it, just be careful with your teeth." 

Noctis shoots him a look that says _he knows, he knows_. He doesn't need his badgering right now as he concentrates on coating his cock with more awkward licks, tongue flattened against the surface of his skin and moving across, feeling along every bump and ridge as he strokes him with it. Gladio's breath hitches loudly from above, and his fingers continue to drag through his hair encouragingly.  

Growing bolder with the positive response, Noctis finally wraps his entire mouth around the tip and lowers his head along the saliva-slick skin, trying to see how much he can fit in out of curiosity before he immediately makes himself gag and cough. He can feel his face flaring in embarrassment once more, his whole body wracked with small heaves as Gladio tries to soothe him with several strokes of his hair.

"Hey, take it easy!"

"Would you just let me do it?" Noctis fires back, rapidly covering his awkwardness with annoyance, "I don't see you giving me any in return." 

"Never tried, but I've gotten enough to know what to do better than you." 

Not surprising given that Noctis is fairly sure he's been Gladio's only male partner up to date, though he's never really asked him about it. He's not sure if he wants to know, unwilling to open the can of worms that is Gladio's sexual past. The less he knows, the better he feels, and he still wants to really shut him up at this point, so he doesn't hesitate at all in pushing his lips around his cock once more, this time easing him inside and letting his cock rest half way into his mouth. His eyes flutter shut without thinking, trying to focus on moving around him without scraping his teeth as his fingers grip the base firmly, trying to keep in mind what Gladio had taught him earlier. He likes being massaged down there, so he acquiesces to that much, fingers stretching to push between the soft sacs where his balls hang, idly cradling and fondling them at the same time his tongue presses underneath his cock to tickle along one of the bulging veins. It has the desired effect of drawing out another quiet groan out of Gladio as the older man suddenly thrusts a little forward without thinking and starts to pull harder on his hair.

"Remember your-" he starts, but Noctis doesn't let him finish, suddenly sucking tight around the tip and letting his cheeks hollow while emitting a vulgar slurping noise.

Gladio's whole body lurches forward at that moment, pushing into him deeper as Noctis' name tumbles loose from his mouth, and Noctis can feel him shaking a bit harder, thighs clamping a little tighter around his head while his erection seems to twitch in his mouth. He tries to increase the suction motion of his lips and cheeks before loosening the muscles and bobbing his head a little. The whole action quickly becomes a mess as saliva starts to dribble down his chin, and he does end up accidentally scraping his teeth against Gladio anyway, a move that earns him a loud, pained curse as Gladio tugs him back to glare.

"I heard you the first thirty times," Noctis hisses before he can say anything, and one of his hands moves to rub his own sore jaw, trying to figure out if he's just utterly terrible at this or if Gladio is insanely difficult to please. Maybe a combination of the both.

"Last warning, or I'm not letting you do this again." 

Way to not make him seem like a hopeless cause. Now, Noctis' pride is at stake here, which is enough to goad him to pushing Gladio's cock back in his mouth as his fingers slowly circle around the width and gently clench inwards. He's extra careful this time as he starts to pump the half that isn't covered with his mouth, doing his best to push him closer to release as the insides of his cheeks draw tight around the tip. His eyes flick up curiously to try and measure Gladio's response before feeling his self-consciousness rear its ugly head when he catches Gladio pinning him to the ground with his stare.

He'll never stop being intimidated by the sheer weight of intensity there, the way his pupils always seem to engulf him completely without mercy, but rather than letting himself stop completely like he wants to, he drives himself to continue, tries to relish in the attention a bit as he squeezes around Gladio's cock and pushes his tongue right along the ridge separating the glans from the rest of his shaft, tracing over it with slow and playful strokes until Gladio's upper body starts to curl forward.

"Keep doing that," he breathes out, deep and husky into his hair, the sound of it sending a sudden surge of chills down his spine.

Noctis obediently keeps tickling the same spot with his tongue before he creates another strong suction motion with his lips, pushing as much of Gladio's cock into his mouth as he can manage while avoiding gagging this time. The quick and rapid tugs against his hair are the only warnings he gets that Gladio is on the verge of coming, and Noctis has enough sense to try and pull away to catch all of his release without choking on it. 

Through peeked lids, he also catches the spellbinding image of Gladio's eyes clenched shut, face drenched in sweat as his lips mouth his name without any sound coming out. He closely follows the shape of those syllables being drawn out for him and feels Gladio's body tense up and freeze for a seconds as every last bit of come is wrung out of his body. It's a rush to decide after if he wants to try and swallow it down or spit it out, though ultimately, Noctis chooses the former to avoid making a mess on the floor. He's not sure what to expect regarding the taste except thankfully it's not as disgusting as he imagined it would be -a little more on the bland, flavorless side, which is something he can live with as he'd rather not puke in front of Gladio right now. After trying to convince him that he's 'adult' enough to do these sort of things and show more initiative, that would be a giant step backwards. 

Gladio's eyes flick open after a moment as he tries to calm his breathing down, and his hands are combing through Noctis' hair again in that subtle congratulatory way that makes Noctis always want to melt right into the palms of them. 

"Didn't think you'd actually swallow that down," he says with a tired chuckle, managing to sound sincerely surprised. 

"Yeah, me neither," Noctis admits, and he knows it's such a weird thing to feel accomplished about but he does. 

At least, that's over with it, and he moves away to brush his mouth clean on his sleeve before Gladio helps him stands up and fix both their clothes. Thankfully, no one had deigned to use the restrooms at any point during that exchange, or Noctis would have been in severe trouble -the both of them would have. He's not ready to talk about this at all with his father, not even having decided if he ever will. The last thing he wants to do is send him to an early grave, and he wouldn't necessarily call what he and Gladio have now a relationship anyway. He's not sure what he'd call it if he's honest with himself, having been toeing around the idea for the past several months without any solid answer.

As he glances over at Gladio's worn and satisfied expression, he decides he won't think about it today, either. Why ruin a good thing? 

 

 **010.**

 

Hanging out after training together has become a regular habit for all four of them since Prompto had decided to try and join the ranks of the Cronwsguard. Gladio's been including him in their sessions, which makes Noctis a bit anxious as he never really pictured Prompto as much of a military guy. He's always been so soft-hearted and gentle around people that Noctis had always thought he'd want to become a pro photographer or even work with animals. Maybe that's the path he would have chosen had he himself not been a prince, and the guilt starts to wind its way through him as he tries to encourage his friend, knowing that it's the wrong path for him. Perhaps, they both know that deep inside, but Prompto hasn't ever once thought of quitting or giving up completely in spite of his numerous complaints.

It's almost heart-warming the extent he's willing to go to stay with the three of them -to fight alongside them and try to earn his place. Noctis just hopes that it'll never have to come down to Prompto putting his life on the line for him the same way he knows Ignis and Gladio would, but he laughs off their training sessions like he doesn't understand the weight of Prompto's decision and tries to enjoy the quieter moments in between when they all lounge about in the local arcade.

Ignis handles ordering all the food and drinks while Gladio flirts with one of the ladies sitting at the counter, who laughs gently and tips her head in his direction. It makes it hard for Noctis to focus on the game of ski ball he's currently losing while Prompto celebrates sinking another goal past him. 

"You keep this up, and you're going to lose the bet, Noct," Prompto exclaims.

He really shouldn't have agreed to it at all, especially if Gladio is going to innocuously throw him off his game by being his usual self. Luckily, the only thing he stands to lose is his dignity since Prompto had bet him that he'd have to play an entire round of that rhythm and dance game if he lost. Showing the world (or at least the few people in range at the arcade) he can't dance at all will probably haunt him for a good couple of years however, and it doesn't seem as though he'll escape this fate as Prompto is the first one to sink in three goals. 

"Damn it!" he curses with a scowl, wanting to kick the edge of the ski ball table. 

It would hurt, but it would be so satisfying, too. If only he hadn't let himself be distracted by something so petty because it doesn't matter at all to him who Gladio chats up or why. They've always maintained a very open sort of relationship, and he's the one getting tangled up inside some teenage nonsense when he should be growing out of this by now. 

Prompto erupts across from him in cheers, grinning from ear to ear. "Can't believe I took you out that easily! Normally you put up a fight. Off your game today, Noct?" 

"No," he instantly denies, but it's pretty obvious he was. 

His hand grabs the puck from where it landed in his goal before tossing it across to Prompto who easily stops it. 

"Aw, you're always such a sore loser. Almost makes me feel bad for winning." 

If he wasn't his best friend, he'd stuff that puck in his mouth, but as it is, he accepts his loss with whatever dignity he can salvage after that display. He also has his own end of the bet to fulfill, making him rather glad that Gladio _is_ distracted as he approaches the platform of the dance game. With all the neon lights coming from it, it is intimidating to gape at, and Noctis is instantly tempted to renegotiate the terms of their bet. This is too cruel of a fate for someone as young as him, but Prompto's not having it.

Both of his friend's hands land flat on his back, shoving up onto the platform before picking out a song.

"You thinkin' pop or electronic music?" 

"Don't do this to me," Noctis pleas with a groan.

"Nope. Sorry, bud. If I'd had lost, I'd have done it." 

"Yeah, but you have no dignity left to lose." 

That earns him a playful glare from Prompto.

"Just for that, I'm picking the most obnoxious song I can find for you and putting it on the hardest setting. You ready to dance your socks off, Noct?" 

No, absolutely not. This is torture. Not to mention that the avatar on the screen looks like a doll who belly flopped into a pile of glitter. It's atrocious, and Noctis tries not to cringe as the music starts up. Thankfully, no one is paying attention to them as they're tucked away in the more dimly lit part of the arcade for ambience, so Noctis does feel a small veil of protection around him as he starts to follow the movements. After all the rigorous training Gladio's put him through for years, it's not exactly difficult to sync up with the steps and music, though he's not exactly that graceful at it either, especially since he has a distinctly different body type than the dancing avatar. 

He's also skipping out on the more embarrassing moves while Prompto complains that he's not allowed to do that. _'That's cheating!'_ Yeah, he can come up here and try and follow along with this thing and see how closely he wants to mimic some of these moves. A few hip pops and twirls later, and Noctis is counting the seconds until the song's end, feeling a bit of sweat starting to bead along his forehead. Prompto also hadn't been kidding about putting this on its hardest setting. The speed is insane, and he struggles to try and hold it together before the finishing move leaves him with one leg in the air, frozen in a kick formation and his arms hugging around his chest as he heaves out breath after breath. 

A startlingly loud clap breaks him out of his concentration, and he turns to find Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto all there watching with amused expressions on their faces. 

"Pulled it off better than I thought you could!" Prompto remarks first.

Noctis has to keep reminding himself that Prompto is his best friend so he doesn't give into the urge to strangle him. 

"That was quite a feat for the crowned prince of Lucis," Ignis remarks next, "I am impressed you didn't fall off the platform." 

"That makes the two of us," Gladio adds, still clapping before smacking Noctis lightly across the center of the back. "How about a round two? Might actually improve your stamina." 

Those words inspire a searing glance out of Noctis who pushes Gladio aside so he can hop off. "No way. Never doing that again." 

"Until you lose the next bet against me," Prompto chimes in unhelpfully, "even got it all on video so we can watch again later!" 

He's really nailing all the pain in today, but Noctis knows he's had enough. His muscles are screaming at him, and his face is still drenched in sweat. Ignoring the rest of the comments from his audience, he makes his way to the bathroom so he can splash water on his face and try to fix his now damp hair into a decent style. 

The door swings open a moment later, though he's not surprised to find Gladio there, probably to rub more salt in his wounds. Either that or let him know he's going home early with the girl he just met. Regardless, he remains quiet, watching the older man as he slinks forward like a prowling cat and tensing up when he presses up against his backside without warning. Before Noctis can protest the action, he's swiftly turned around and pinned up against the counter, trapped firmly against the edge of it while Gladio's mouth captures his.

It's as hungry and overpowering as his usual kisses, tongue prying his lips apart, fingers moving to cradle his head and run through his hair until his anger starts to creep away fast, letting urgency spread through him in its place. His own hands draw over Gladio's waist before crawling like rabid spiders up his back, bunching his shirt in between and clinging to the fabric as his lips part open, welcoming his tongue -sucking, licking, biting into it. He's not sure what brought this on, but he's not in the mood to ask questions, wanting to sink into the sensation completely instead, no matter how maddeningly quick it overtakes him. 

His body arches away from the counter to continue to invite Gladio's in, rising to try and push against him as he finds himself seated on the edge of its surface. Gladio parts his legs for him to sink further in between, and Noctis scoots in even closer until they're pressed tight together, hips lined up perfectly. The cool mirror bleeds into his upper back, the sensation touching his neck and pressing into the top of his spine as they keep bruising each other's mouths with open, desperate kisses, hot air mixed in while they messily rock their bodies together. 

However, when Gladio's hand starts to squeeze in between their bodies, fingers molding over the growing bulge in front of his pants, Noctis' mind abruptly snaps back to reality, remembering where they are and what they're doing. The fear of being caught grips a hold of him, and he's quick to grab onto Gladio's wrist and twist it away as he breaks the kiss. 

By then, his whole face feels flushed and his mouth is tingling uncontrollably as he swallows down air fast. He catches Gladio's eyes staring back at him in amusement, something devious and wild twinkling behind that Noctis isn't sure he's ever seen in him before. If he has, he hadn't taken note of it, but now, it's impossible to miss. 

"Don't tell me all that dancing really got to you?" Noctis asks carefully, still trying to find his voice and having a hard time not sounding as hoarse and tangled up in this as the rest of him feels.

Gladio snorts softly in response. "Not at all. You looked ridiculous. But I saw you sulking earlier." 

Was he that obvious? His head bows down, eyes shifting away fast, now feeling a little ashamed he let his emotions get the better of him. He still doesn't know why he'd even allowed himself to get that worked up.

"You don't owe me anything." 

"I know," Gladio agrees before suddenly gripping Noctis' shirt and yanking him in close again so his lips can hover right against his, barely grazing against them with a whisper of a touch, "but you're hard to ignore. I'd rather shut your doubts up fast." 

By shoving his tongue in his mouth apparently. Noctis isn't _entirely_ complaining, but they're not exactly alone here in this place. It's also difficult to stop completely once Gladio's hands starts wandering below the belt, and he's had less and less control on that front than when they first started. At least, back then he'd been too nervous to go much further than a few kisses, but now, he keeps wanting to do more without any solid idea where and if he should stop. He's afraid of getting to that point where he'll have to ask for more because his body won't be able to settle on the bare minimum, but he's still not ready. 

Letting out a breath, he leans away from Gladio and further back towards the mirror, trying to increase the physical space between them. "Prompto's probably waiting for me," he murmurs quietly, derailing Gladio's plans quickly.

It's agonizing when the solid wall of heat from his body moves away, but Noctis also feels like he can breathe again. Relief floods through him as he struggles to calm down while half-expecting Gladio to be annoyed, but he doesn't seem all that bothered. 

"Your call," he simply says before walking way and letting himself out. Noctis is left to observe the back of his shirt as it disappears through the door while trying to get his own body to cool down completely. His nerves are still alive beneath his skin, throbbing incessantly for a touch that won't come, and it's near impossible to stamp down the yearning. 

By the time Noctis leaves the bathroom, Gladio's back at the girl's side, exchanging jokes while Ignis absently fiddles with his phone in one of the booths. Prompto's glued to a fighting game, pounding furiously at the buttons and wriggling the joystick with nearly enough force to break it off, and Noctis doesn't hesitate in sidling up next to him and pushing an arcade token in so he can take the player-two spot. 

"What do you want to bet on now?" he asks, trying to sound as casual as possible, though he thinks he hasn't entirely quelled the flush from his features because Prompto's eyes immediately rise to his face and linger there like he wants to say something.

He watches him out of the corner of his eye while fidgeting and biting his lower lip before bumping into his side lightly. It's entirely too restrained of a response for Prompto, and Noctis has to war with himself whether or not he even wants to pry deeper and ask what's bothering him. Could he suspect something? He hates the idea of being transparent, but Prompto is a lot more emphatic to the people around him than he lets on.

The silence lingers for a bit longer before Prompto finally clears his throat quietly.

"So how long?" he asks, still looking like he wants to twitch around nervously, and his fingers are now gripping the joystick so hard that his knuckles are turning a bit white before he starts up a new game.

Noctis' heart immediately starts to pound somewhere deep in his chest, the echo of each beat reverberating all along his body until he feels like he's one giant heartbeat standing next to his friend. It's difficult to quell the sudden prickling anxious feeling that erupts beneath his skin at the same time as his own eyes remain glued to the character selection screen in front of him rather than daring to face Prompto. His face would give him away too fast, so he responds with feigned obliviousness.

"How long what?" 

Prompto's hand idly plays with the joystick, moving from character to character quietly before he faces Noctis fully. "You and-" his eyes flicker towards Gladio before he nudges his head in that direction.

"Oh," is all Noctis can bring himself to respond, every other word in their language weighing heavily on his tongue and rendering it immobile. What can he say really? Maybe he should have been honest from the very beginning, but even back then, he hadn't really known what he'd been feeling, a problem that still persists up until that very moment. Maybe if he had a more solid idea of what's going through him, he'd be able to articulate it all better and not leave his best friend out in the dark. 

"It's not like that," he continues unsteadily, trying to find his footing in this conversation.

That makes Prompto tap his knuckles with the back of his own hand, looking impatient. "Come on, Noct, you don't have to hold out on me. Not like it'd bother me if you were. Just would've liked to have known. I've been thinking about it for a while…"

 _Just how long?_ Here he'd been thinking everything had been deeply entrenched in his mind when he'd been unwittingly spilling out so much of himself -maybe since as long as the two of them had met. He feels a little foolish now, wishing he could shrink away from that curious gaze, not wanting to stand here and tell Prompto everything under the flashing lights of the game screen. 

"I don't know how long, okay?" Noctis finally snaps, "Can we just play now?" 

That seems to silence Prompto who nods quietly and picks a character. His head bows a little, obviously looking guilty next to him, and while a part of Noctis wants to reassure him that he's not really upset with him, the words never come out. Ultimately, he's more upset at himself for still wrestling with this ongoing issue of how he feels. It'd be easier to shut his brain off completely and let every tidal wave of emotion hit him and wash him away, but life's never that generous. Eventually, other people will be swept up in it, too. 

Afterwards, he walks Prompto to the train, their arms occasionally brushing together. The sun is already dipping below the horizon, and Gladio had gone home with the girl he'd met. He'd only stopped to tell them he was heading out, which hadn't exactly made Noctis' mood improve. 

When they finally reach Prompto's train, Noctis is the first to turn to his friend and mutter a quiet, "Sorry." 

"It's no biggie," Prompto reassures him, slapping his arm affectionately, "I know it's complicated. Still wish you'd have told me, man." 

Noctis' shoulders shrug gently, but he does manage a small smile, knowing Prompto's doing his best to understand all of this. If only it was easier to explain it all, and maybe, one day, he actually will be able to. Just not now.

"Yeah, well, it's not the kind of thing you bring up casually." 

"At least, this means I don't got to worry about any competition," Prompto tells him with a good-natured grin, stretching his arms out as he starts to climb down the stairs. 

"How about worrying over not scaring girls off to begin with," Noctis fires back, well aware that Prompto's only true competition is himself.

"Hey! I don't know what you mean. I'm totally charming. Watch me win over that girl from the fro-yo place. Next time, I'll be the one ditching everyone with a girl on my arm!" 

Prompto's words fade down the subway as he walks further away, and Noctis stands watching the now empty stairwell before chuckling to himself. For some reason, that hadn't been as hard as he'd built it up in his mind to be, and at least another burden he's carried around for some time feels marginally lighter. Not gone completely -he doesn't think it ever will be-, but it definitely doesn't ache as much. 

"See you around," he says quietly, well aware that Prompto can no longer hear him at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**011.**

 

It's not often they go out lately just the two of them, especially since Ignis and Prompto had started to train alongside them to work as a functional four-man unit. Noctis has been having to learn to give them access to his arsenal and try to combine magic for them to use which has often had more hilarious effects than successful ones. There had been that one time he'd mixed up what he thought would be an extremely potent and dangerous spell, only for the flask to have cast a puff of smoke and inspire several judgmental remarks from both Ignis and Gladio. Their progress had been edging towards being a more formidable group, but knowing that the other three are becoming more and more dependent on him to stabilize their attacks is starting to have its drawbacks. The mid-battle pressure often becomes too unbearable, and he'd find himself making all kinds of clumsy mistakes that would be otherwise easily avoidable if he was alone. 

He doesn't like the feeling of being the only one they can rely on, knowing that also means their lives are now in his hands. If he can't activate his arsenal or mix magic properly, he can put them in a dire situation, which makes him wonder how his father can easily command a large group like the Kingsglaive without showing any fear and hesitation. There must be at least fifty men and women he's got his powers cycling through at a near constant basis while he here he is, struggling just to power up three guys.

It's not the first time he's wondered if he could ever be as strong as his father or ever hope to accomplish the same. One day, the ring, the crystal, all the responsibilities will fall to him alone, and the crushing weight of it gets more oppressive every day as he struggles to concentrate. His mind has grown more scattered, and he knows his friends are starting to notice and worry. If only he can sincerely tell them how afraid he is all the time, how the terror keeps him up at nights and seems to follow him around like a shadow.

Maybe that's why Gladio bothered dragging him out today since he's never been one for any 'dates' that don't involve training in some form. There had been a few occasions here and there, but those feel so radically distant to him at the moment as all emphasis had switched to the four of them getting stronger faster. _Time is of the essence._ He wishes he knew what was on the horizon, only able to pick up on the tension erupting all around him without knowing exactly _why_. Members of the Crownsguard are constantly watching him, surveying his every move with a close eye, and even the citizens who recognize him seem to regard him wary politeness like they are also trying to gauge what kind of king he'd be to them in the future.

Are they already thinking his father's days are numbered? Noctis hates contemplating it and has been avoiding the topic entirely, making less trips to the citadel outside of training and refusing to answer any questions from the press who keep flagging him down one way or another while he's just doing his best to remain invisible these days. He doesn't need or want everyone's scrutiny at once.

Fortunately, the weight of Gladio's arm slinking around his shoulders flushes those thoughts out of his head for a moment, bringing him back to the present as they head towards one of the outer districts for a bit of shopping. Gladio had told him he wanted to check out a vintage bookstore, which had honestly sounded like the most boring idea in the world, but Noctis had wanted to leave the confines of his apartment for the night anyway. He'd been desperate to go anywhere that wasn't surrounded by TVs and news reports of the rising friction between Niflheim and their elite Kingsglaive. 

Angling him towards one of the quiet back streets, Gladio leads him to the first store he sees with a small grin, "This way. You're gonna love this place."

"If you say so," Noctis mutters, pulling his cap down lower.

He'd wore it to keep most of his face hidden and try to blend in more, still trying to avoid the press and any attention in general. Fortunately, most people don't know what he looks like since he doesn't appear in any media quite often, and he also happens to be good at skulking around unnoticed into the background when he wants to.

His eyes follow Gladio as the older man immediately beelines towards the philosophy section, eagerly thumbing through the line of books there like a child in a toy store. It's kind of cute in a way to see his hulking figure practically brimming with excitement as he goes through book after book. Leaving him to pick through them on his own, Noctis instead busies himself with the comics section, absently browsing along the colorful covers. 

Faint shouting from outside grabs his attention after a moment, his body stilling in place to try and listen. There's someone with a megaphone. How strange… Absently, he peeks out the doorway to catch sight of a small gathering crowd. In the middle stands an older man with a scraggly beard, shouting out about the 'Injustices of the crown.' It takes a few seconds for Noctis to realize it's a crowd of refugees, all holding signs and banners, yelling agreements as the man on the proverbial apple box expresses his grievances and calls for the head of the king.

Noctis' feet start drawing him further out of the bookstore without thinking, approaching slowly to hear him better while feeling anger starting to simmer below his skin as he calls King Regis a coward. Defaces him. _Belittles him_. Destroys his image in front of all these people. The uproarious agreements hit him like a thousand knives, reminding him that his father isn't beloved by all -not even respected by these people. 

But what can he do? He's not going to start a fight with a bunch of boisterous citizens. That would only taint their image of the crown even further and get him in a whole lot of trouble. The last thing he needs is to be known as a king who'd slay the very people he promised to protect. 

His hands curl into fists after a while, forcing himself to try and walk away -just ignore it all. Ultimately, there's nothing he can do about it, though his steps weigh heavily like lead as he heads back towards the bookstore only to find himself being halted. 

A large hand falls on his shoulder before he's suddenly being dragged into a nearby alley where he's slammed up against the wall with a knife to his throat. The cold metal pushes into his skin, pressure applied enough to hurt but not enough to make him bleed. Noctis sucks in a breath while tensing, eyes widening as much as they can, unsure if he should fight back or what. 

"Give me your money," the man before him rasps, eyes narrowed and red webbed veins sprouting noticeably from his dilated pupils. 

His breath stinks terribly of alcohol every time he exhales on him, Noctis has to fight to keep his own nausea at bay while he stares back at him, struggling to remain calm. He's not even sure what to say, though the drunk man continues to keep him pinioned as he moves in closer.

"Come on, kid, don't got all day. You too busy pissin' yourself to move?" 

Something about the way he snarls at him finally twists a few screws loose in his brain, and Noctis decides he's going to fight back because he's still pissed off and not in the mood to be a victim.

His sword starts to materialize in his fingers, the blue glow of each particle lacing together before Gladio's voice stops him abruptly.

"Don't do it-!" he yells, and his steps are loud and determined, booming across the asphalt before he rips the drunkard away and frees him with one arm. 

Noctis doesn't even realize he's shaking until his knees smack together, and the sword dissolves entirely while he stares up at Gladio's face, unsure what he did wrong. He'd only been trying to defend himself.

He's not given much time to contemplate it as the drunk comes charging again, and this time Gladio shoves Noctis' body firmly behind his own back, standing in the way to grapple with the drunk. At some point while trying to disarm him of the knife -a Galahdian blade Noctis realizes-, the pointed tip of it comes slicing down in a violent arc along the side of Gladio's face, and the smell of blood instantly assaults Noctis' nostrils, making him tense up and pale as he tries to force his body to do something - _anything._

His limbs won't obey his mind at all, no matter how loudly it screams at the rest of him, and he watches the drops fall like rain and puddle over the asphalt before Gladio finally twists the blade free of the drunk's hand and sends him scrambling away with his tail between his legs. He then slides the knife into his own belt and clutches the wound that won't seem to stop bleeding at all. 

Fearing the worst, Noctis finally rushes to his side, hoping his left eye is still in tact. He tries to pry Gladio's hand away just to look, but Gladio holds him at bay with his other arm.

"Let me see!" Noctis demands, growing frustrated at the whole situation. If Gladio hadn't stopped him, he could have taken the guy out and spared him from being injured. 

Come to think of it, why hadn't Gladio summoned his own sword? He had it in his arsenal. He could have easily accessed it. 

"I'm fine," Gladio tells him in return, still cradling the wound and trying to hide the pain between grit teeth. "It's just a surface wound. Stings like a bitch but won't take me out." 

Noctis doesn't believe him, and he shoves him back roughly, still trying to direct all his pent up anger form before. 

"Why didn't you let me take care of him?" 

To his surprise, Gladio remains calm instead of exploding on him in return. "He wasn't a fighter. He barely knew how to use that knife, and he'd been drinking. What kind of guy would I be if I hurt someone like that? Besides, most refugees here are struggling to make ends meet. You heard them. They don't exactly live a life of luxury like you." 

He's right… he's right about a lot of things, but it still doesn't make up for letting himself get injured on his behalf.

"You could have lost an eye," Noctis presses.

"But I didn't. Vision's still fine. The cut didn't even graze my eyelid. Now, would you stop overreacting?" 

Noctis _can't._ It's the first time Gladio's ever taken a real hit for him, and the guilt is pooling too fast across his gut, making him feel sick inside. Maybe he should be more grateful, but he's upset it even happened to begin with. If only he hadn't wandered around casually either. His face scrunches up in anguish before Gladio reaches out and suddenly cups the back of his neck to force him to look at him. He removes his other hand from his face and shows him the bloodied wound in all its goriness, though his expression remains sincere.

"This is what I was born to do. My own birthright. You rule, and I protect you. I'm still your shield regardless of what else has happened between us." 

" _I know_ ," Noctis squeezes the words out like they physically hurt to say.

The truth always does, doesn't it? And one day he's going to be in greater danger, and the wounds Gladio will have to take for him will only be larger. 

"I know," Noctis repeats more quietly, trying to accept the truth as though if by saying it again and again, he can convince himself somehow. 

It doesn't quite work, but he follows Gladio home after anyway, not saying much until they're inside. Gladio fiddles with his own first aid kit before sitting on the edge of the bed to try and clean the wound out himself. A few minutes later, Noctis finally steps in with a wet towel to help, though he feels awkward brushing it over his skin and actually taking care of someone for a change. How many times had ignis cleaned his wounds out for him in the past? 

He tries to remember what he'd done, taking his time to wash out all the dry blood and instructing Gladio to remove his dirty shirt as water from the towel sluices downwards along his neck and chest. Everything feels too eerie and still in Gladio's empty apartment, and Noctis tries to retain his focus after as he takes a q-tip to swab some anti-bacterial along the cut. It's not deep enough to require stitches, ending up being more of a cosmetic wound than anything serious. That's a relief, but Noctis still doesn't feel all that comfortable looking at it. 

His hands move to grab the bandages before Gladio stops him and shakes his head.

"It's fine. Let it breathe. It's mostly stopped bleeding now anyway." 

A potion could erase the wound completely, but Gladio refuses that, too. So Noctis is left to stare at the thin line now marring his otherwise fierce and handsome features, his own thumb absently wiping at the bottom edge. He doesn't know what compels him at that moment to suddenly stand between Gladio's open thighs, cradling his face and leaning down as though possessed, lips replacing the same spot his thumb had brushed over a moment ago. It's so careful and gentle that he hardly believes it's coming from himself and can feel Gladio's whole body tensing beneath him before the older man draws his hands underneath the fabric of his shirt and pushes both his palms to his lower back.

"Maybe I should get injured more often, if you're actually acting nice to me for a change." 

"Don't get used to it," Noctis retorts before lowering his forehead to touch Gladio's and just leaving it there, letting the heat from Gladio's skin melt into his own cooler forehead.

For a long time, he remains unmoving, just breathing in the air that Gladio's letting out as he the warmth of Gladio's palms crawl up and down his spine. There's something comforting in the stillness, wanting to burrow deep into the atmosphere after the frantic night they'd both had. If only he knew how to deplete the guilt completely from himself, but he decides then that if he can't, he'll at least find a way to show Gladio his own appreciation.

At first, it's with a slow kiss to his mouth, drawing in his lips, tasting them and taking the time to explore the soft texture. Gladio's breath still tastes like some energy drink he'd tossed down earlier, the sweet lemon flavor latched stubbornly onto his tongue that Noctis licks off while Gladio's hands cradle him in closer. Rough palms continue to draw up his shirt, tracing up his spine and pushing his fingers along the ridges until Noctis's whole body cants forwards, wanting to be tightly embraced -wanting the life to be squeezed out of him at that moment. He asks for it in teeth dragged down Gladio's stubbled chin and jaw, biting along the surface of the bone like his instinct is bidding him to until he's the one pushing Gladio down on his back, forcing him to lie down so he can keep pulling the flesh around his throat between his teeth. His hands draw down Gladio's still damp chest, fingertips crawling over the expanse of muscles, only stopping to realize how fast Gladio's pulse is drumming beneath his touch and feeling quietly elated that he's getting excited and reacting to him. 

Noctis's body follows him onto the bed, straddling his thighs as he indulges himself, tracing over the head of the eagle that adorns his chest, back, and arms as he inhales the deep, musky scent that clings tightly to his skin all over. His hands continue to move downwards, unwilling to pause anywhere in their journey, unbuckling Gladio's belt with a loud clinking noise before edging his pants down low along his hips with his underwear. The tip of his rigid cock is already peaking out of his underwear, demanding attention, but Noctis is still awkward about directly touching him there even though he does genuinely want him to feel good tonight. He wants to be the one to _make_ him feel good.

"You're really going all out," Gladio comments amused, and his hands bunch up Noctis' shirt in his palms before suddenly pulling it up and off of him.

Noctis lets him strip it off completely, still wondering at what point should he stop - _if_ he should stop. Again, that question strikes at his mind as he draws both hands down Gladio's flanks, tracing over rib bones and protruding muscles, finding himself distracted by the sheer feel of them in his grip. There's so much raw power laced there, strength that Noctis had envied even though he'd far surpassed Gladio in other ways long ago. He still could never bring himself to feel as powerful as Gladio looks.

Both sets of fingers stop again over where he'd left Gladio's underwear and pants pushed down before moving them fast to lift Gladio's face towards him, kissing his mouth again because it's simple and familiar. Uncomplicated. He also likes the way Gladio groans, the subtle vibration from that sound that sends a fresh wave of heat careening down his own spine. Just hearing him and looking at him is already doing wonders to drive his own body towards the brink, feeling his own cock neglected and insistent where it's tented tight against his underwear. 

As if reading his thoughts, Gladio's hand moves to cup him through the fabric, giving him a light squeeze that draws Noctis' hips forward as his breath hitches tightly into the kiss.

"Gladio," he suddenly finds himself whispering, and his own voice always sounds too broken and ragged when he's this turned on.

"How do you want this to play out?" 

Unlike him, Gladio sounds steadier, almost amused as he looks up at him and flicks his pants open with casual confidence, the kind that Noctis wishes would be infectious because he's struggling to figure out what he should ask for. He has a feeling right now that Gladio would be all too willing to acquiesce, which leaves him on edge and uncertain.

"What do _you_ want? You always ask me but never say anything yourself." 

"Because I don't want to push you for something you're not ready for." 

Gladio's hands shift to circle around him, suddenly hugging him as he rolls them over and changes their position so that Noctis is lying down on his back and staring up at Gladio. Before he can say anything, Gladio's palms grip him around his thighs, and he uses that to tug him forward at the same time he thrusts between his legs, hard cock pushed tight against his ass.

Suddenly, too many things slot into place in Noctis' head as he stares up at his friend, throat dry and mouth full of cotton, trying to figure out what to respond. Gladio beats him to the punch as he strokes a soothing hand over his abdomen, fingertips tracing between the lean muscles there. 

"Your face says it all. You're not ready." 

Does he look that terrified? Maybe it's stubborn pride that pushes him not to back out at that moment, unwilling to let himself be seen as a child once more due to inexperience, and it's not as if he isn't familiar with what sex between two guys is like. He's never seen it first-hand, but he's heard about it and has a pretty good idea what goes where. If Gladio is expecting him to run away, he's not giving him that kind of satisfaction at the moment. 

Both hands immediately lock down on Gladio's biceps, keeping him in place as he returns the gesture, pushing this body taut against his groin and rolling his hips as boldly as he can manage as he stares up at him challengingly -unwavering for once. 

"You can't decide that for me, Gladio. If I say I am, then I am." 

Gladio's eyebrows rise a fraction as he moves his hands so they lie flat on either side of Noctis' face while he stares down at him, trying to gauge how much truth there is in that statement. The look is beyond scrutinizing, measuring him up tensely before Gladio suddenly leans down to push their noses together.

"Do you really want me to do it? It'll hurt, and you already bitch over even the slightest cut."

That's obviously an exaggeration. He knows how to handle his pain. He just _prefers_ not to, but the more Gladio tries to discourage him, the more Noctis can't help but want to prove him wrong. 

"Like you're suddenly an expert on this. I'd be your first guy, too." 

"Yeah, but I did my homework. You're the one in for a rude awakening." 

In response to that, Noctis' fingers suddenly reach out to grab fistfuls of Gladio's hair, yanking his mouth right up against his own as he hisses into it, " _Try me_." 

That seems to finally break Gladio out of his over-protectivenesses as he snorts quietly beneath his breath and extracts himself just enough to grab a few things from his nightstand. From the corner of Noctis' eye, he spots a strange bottle of clear fluid and a condom, both of which are tossed onto the bed before Gladio starts helping him out of his pants and underwear.

"You can back out at anytime, just so you know." 

There's something soft in his tone that indicates Gladio has every intention of stopping the moment he expresses discomfort, but Noctis isn't particularly keen on admitting he's right about any of this. He can handle himself pretty well, and he's endured a lot worse. Besides, guys wouldn't do it with each other if it didn't feel at least a little bit good. That's his only comfort as he feels himself being stripped and exposed to the cool air, and it's hard not to clam up or close his body in on itself to hide from Gladio's gaze as his larger body sinks back down between his legs.

Without a stitch of clothing between them, he feels suddenly too aware of the weight of Gladio's torso over him, the torrid heat of it drowning him and suffocating him as he feels like he's being engulfed everywhere by him. It's difficult warring between tensing up and melting even further, his mind torn in half at the moment by overpowering anxiety as he tries to follow along, responding to the brush of Gladio's hips with an arch to chase the press of his erection with his own. They slip against one another, and he can feel the ridges of his hard flesh drawing slowly across him, the simple touch tearing a soft sound out of his throat. 

Noctis' own hands trace down Gladio's back, trying to follow over the intricate lines of ink. Though he's unable to see what he's really touching, he knows they're there nonetheless, and his fingers spread out in place to move, clawing everywhere -wanting to keep indulging himself just to remain distracted as Gladio grabs the bottle from the bed and uncaps it. 

"Try and relax," he intones as he drizzles a bit over Noctis' cock, the cool sensation nearly making him jump from his spot before Gladio holds him down. "What did I just say?" 

"You didn't warn me it'd be cold!" he snaps back.

That draws a small laugh from Gladio whose hand then slides across the underside of his erection, starting to spread the lubricant around and coat him everywhere in it. It makes it easier for him to cradle the width of it in his palm, slick fingers starting to rub over him with short and rapid strokes that quickly leave Noctis' mind splintering even further, his breath drawn out into sharp, hollow gasps as he pushes up into the hole Gladio makes with his fist. He's desperate for the friction, frantic to rut himself on his skin and indulging in the slippery way they touch one another as heat starts to spike its way down his spinal cord and build harshly between his thighs.

Gladio's name ends up being a drawn out groan, tumbling fast out of his mouth as he tries to warn him he won't last like that, and Gladio takes that as his queue to slow down completely, only keeping him sandwiched in his firm grasp as his other hand gathers more lubricant. Damp fingers trace gently behind his balls and move lower, sliding across his tight entrance in a way that makes Noctis clam up instantly because he's still of the belief that nothing _should_ go in there.

"How many times do I have to-"

"I know!" Noctis breathes out impatiently, " _I'm trying._ " 

It's easier said than done. Gladio should try doing this some time so he knows what it feels like because his body just doesn't want to comply. Fear has a tight grip on him and even with the pleasure rolling down the length of his cock and driving him crazy, he still can't submit completely to the idea of being penetrated. Nevertheless, Gladio's finger slides around the ring of muscle slowly, trying to get him to open up even a little, which Noctis finally allows out of pure stubbornness, though it's incredibly uncomfortable.

The lone digit feels already too intrusive when it digs inside of him, pressing in, moving, rubbing at his inner muscles, and Noctis does his very best not to clench hard all around it. His eyes stare up at the ceiling, feeling more and more mortified by the second and starting to regret letting Gladio do this. What was he thinking? Though he doesn't want to stop _now_ , especially when he's still firm and throbbing in Gladio's other hand, blanketed in the heat of his palm and wanting to thrust up into it again.

"How long is this supposed to take?" he absently mutters, wanting the worst to be over.

"If you're asking me that, then you're not doing this right. Hold on-" 

Gladio withdraws before adding more lubricant to two fingers this time, making sure they're both soaked in the fluid as he pushes the tips in. They add _way_ too much pressure, and Noctis has to hold his breath as they breach through him, teeth clenching tightly together to try and deal with the discomfort. If it's this bad already, he doesn't know how the rest of Gladio will fit inside without tearing him in half, but he tries to stave down that feeling as he raises his hips a bit and tries to give Gladio more access.

For a long time, it feels like he's entrenched in the sound of his own breathing while Gladio's fingers thrust in and out slowly, occasionally spreading apart and tickling him. Getting used to the sensation isn't easy at all, and he keeps checking to see if Gladio is getting impatient with him, fearing the worst. To his surprise, Gladio looks more curious than upset, reminding Noctis that he's not the only one new to this. That gives him some relief as he lets out a quiet sigh and does relax a little in spite of himself.

"Let me know if anything feels good. Now's not the time to clam up on me." 

"It feels… weird," Noctis confesses before rocking himself down a bit, trying to see how much deeper he can take him.

"I'm going to try another finger so stay like that."

Again, easier said than done, but Noctis doesn't move as he feels it pushing into him, the pressure increasing even more as he tries not to flinch away. It burns even worse than before, the stretching feeling that makes his eyes water involuntarily before Noctis rubs at them in annoyance. Nothing would be worse at this moment than actually tearing up, so he holds them in and tries to focus on anything else but the pain.

"It's not getting any better, is it?" Gladio asks, concern laced in his voice, and his other hand is already reaching to grab his cock, fingers skirting up the length of it to try and drag him to the edge once more.

His palm circles around it, jerking swiftly and drawing the warmth of his touch all around it just as his other fingers start thrusting once more. The dual sensation of pain and pleasure leave Noctis feeling split down the center, confused, elated, and scattered all at once, unsure what's the strongest emotion to latch onto at the moment. His own breaths grow shallow and broken, spilling out too fast as his head spins, and he spreads his legs a bit more, planting his feet on the bed without thinking just so he can push up into Gladio's hand and rub himself feverishly against it.

Gladio's fingers start sinking in even faster, moving with more slickness as they brush up against inner muscles, massaging the skin until Noctis feels himself start to tingle and throb with a strange explosion of new sensations. He could never describe it to himself except that it leaves him wide-eyed and bucking down towards it, Gladio's name clambering out of his throat while he tries to search for whatever it was. 

" _Do that-_ ," he demands, the words choked out, but Gladio leaves him hanging, withdrawing both hands instead

There's a frustrated noise ready to emerge, but Noctis swallows it down fast when he realizes what Gladio is doing.

"Do you want me to finish you off with my hands or keep going?" 

It's hard to ask him to choose right now because he'd felt _so_ good a few seconds ago, and his brain is so addled that he can't think straight at all. Instead, he's left gaping up at Gladio who's just as hard and eager, already wrapping a condom around himself and slicking the area around it with more lubricant. It still intimidates him to even think of Gladio being inside of him, but when his eye own gaze drifts up, catching the cut on Gladio's face and remembering how he'd accepted the injury for him without a flinch, he realizes that Gladio would easily and unquestioningly sacrifice himself for him.

Knowing that twists a stake through his stomach, the pain sinking its way into him in a manner that no physical pain could ever replicate. The fear of losing another person close to him, the fear of never getting to say goodbye -it all wells up inside too fast, leaving him jumbled up and knowing he can't always think about himself, about his own wants and fears. That Gladio has his own desires and insecurities, too, and he rarely shows that he even cares. 

It's what ultimately convinces him to trust him completely tonight, pulling him down against himself and resolving not to run away because he does want to do this. Not just for himself and his own pride but for Gladio. 

His fingers move shakily across the wound on his face as he loosely slides his legs around his waist, trying to draw him in and encourage him.

"I'll be okay," he says with full conviction, and Gladio smiles gently, the sight of it making Noctis' pulse quicken once more as they kiss.

Their lips remain unsteadily touching, breaking open to breathe into each other just as Gladio positions the tip of his cock against him. The moment he starts to push in is the moment Noctis has to bite back a pained grunt, teeth digging into Gladio's bottom lip as his whole body struggles not to scramble away. It hurts several times more than his fingers, and he instantly hates the sensation of it as every single vein seems to roughly scrape along his insides. He almost wants to scream from the discomfort, but he bottles it up and tightens his legs around Gladio instead, forcing him in deeper no matter how much it hurts.

He doesn't let Gladio stop, stubbornly riding out the pain until he's almost inside, and Gladio's face is a tight grimace that ends up buried straight into his shoulder while he feels the older man shake hard on top of him like he wants to burst. Does it feel good for him? At least, one of them is having a good time, though Noctis gives a small jump when Gladio suddenly slaps his thigh. 

"Loosen up, damn it!" 

"You're too big!" 

That makes Gladio smirk as he purposely jerks forward inside of him, wringing out an anguished gasp from Noctis. 

"Never had any complaints before."

"I'm complaining now!" Noctis hisses, getting him back by squeezing his muscles tightly around his cock.

It's satisfying to make Gladio wince in return, and he smiles a little through the pain before Gladio slides a single hand under his bottom, palm moving flat against his lower back to raise him up a bit. The new angle isn't any less painful except for the times when Gladio rocks in a little too deep, pushing more of himself inside firmly up against his inner muscles. That's when he feels the dull pleasure from before wrapping around him and echoing heatedly everywhere under his skin. It's not strong enough to overtake the pain, but it does make Noctis relax a little more and maneuver himself enough to allow Gladio to thrust in and out with less resistance.

Gladio's face continues to contort above him, obviously looking frustrated about trying to get things right, though at this point Noctis just wants to make him come, not even worrying about finishing himself. His own cock lies heavy and neglected across his stomach, bobbing with every thrust until Gladio deigns to let his fingers reach in between to stroke him. It's a messy, distorted rhythm he establishes, again attacking him with dual sensations that make it impossible to concentrate, and Noctis' whole body twists awkwardly to one side as he drags his fingers down Gladio's upper back before tangling them into the ends of Gladio's hair.

"Does it still hurt?" Gladio breathes out in time with his thrusts.

"A little," Noctis lies just before angling his hips down on him, squeezing his cock in deeper into himself and relishing a bit in the sudden warm sensation that bubbles out across the length of his own dick. 

He feels Gladio's pace quicken in answer, enough that the older man looks like he's starting to enjoy himself instead of worrying so much about hurting him. Pleasure rolls liberally across his normally hardened features where his eyes draw shut and his face grows flushed with exertion, and all Noctis can stare at are Gladio's too long lashes, watching the way they twitch and press together as he moves. 

One of his own hands detaches from Gladio's hair long enough to feel over the broken flesh of his face, thumbing along the dry blood stains from drops that dribbled out earlier before pressing the same thumb to Gladio's mouth to force his lips apart. He feels the older man's breath roll over it and turn to heavy, ragged pants that touch his skin as Noctis admires how good he looks when he's at this breaking point -how purely primal and unleashed he's reacting. 

It's difficult to tear his eyes away, and he's only half aware when Gladio finally does come inside of him, feeling his whole body tremble over him as he wrings every drop out of himself with several quick finishing thrusts. His own body is left still twisted up with tight tension coiled at the base of his stomach, unrelieved and unspent, but Noctis doesn't complain because nothing is more relieving than when Gladio finally slides out of him. It's so blissful of a feeling that Noctis groans without thinking, dropping his head back to the pillow before contemplating just passing out right there. He's honestly had enough, but Gladio doesn't seem intent on letting him off the hook that easily as his hand wraps around the head of his cock once more, fingers pressed inward to squeeze lightly over it as he starts to pump him upwards.

"You're the worst liar," Gladio tells him while shaking his head, his hand still moving with quick jerks that don't even let Noctis gather his wits enough to respond.

Instead, his legs move back to the bed, feet planted so he can push up into his waiting fist, tiredly fucking his hand until his whole body finally gives out. His head still hangs back, eyes shut and lips clenched together, making a noise in the base of his throat as he releases. He doesn't see stars this time nor does he feel his whole body tremble from head to toe but it's enough to get the job done.

Afterwards, he remains lying on the sheets, feeling dead to the world, and Gladio pushes his hair back out of his face before kissing his forehead then dropping another kiss on his nose. When his lips reach his mouth, he whispers against them, "We really have to work on your stamina next time." 

"Shut up," Noctis murmurs in return before shoving Gladio's face away irritably.

He hears him laughing quietly before feeling his warm body slide in next to his, one hand looping above his hair to twine his fingers into it. The calming sensation of his touch is the last thing Noctis remembers before he passes out completely for the night.  

 

**012.**

 

The next two years are filled with more preparation and training until the two of them find themselves now getting ready to set off with the others for an abruptly announced wedding. The news of the engagement practically happens overnight, and Noctis isn't given much room to breathe let alone properly digest the information. All he knows is that he'll be married in a few days, and there's no real backing out of it. The treaty depends on this completely as a stipulation requested by Niflheim. He doesn't understand _why_ , but he also knows he has to find Luna and take her into their custody fast.

 At least, once they're married, he knows she'll be safe -he can look after her. It's what he keeps repeating in his mind as his body wracks with a cold sweat thinking about being in front of an altar, having to stand in front of a crowd of a people and declare his vows to her with full composure.

Gladio and him had also been an on-and-off thing for the past two years (four years really), occasionally delving into something that resembles dating before letting it cool off while Gladio sees other people and Noctis drifts around aimlessly, trying to get his adult life together. The last night they had spent together had been months ago and had already felt like a long-since faded dream, and now, Noctis has to come to terms that this is truly the end between them. Closing the chapter of one part of his life and opening another. It's exciting and terrifying all the same, knowing he'll also be leaving Insomnia for the first time in years and journeying through the world with his friends at his side.

There won't be an opportunity to turn back, so he and Gladio arrange to say goodbye to their old life in their own way when he shows up to his apartment through the pouring rain. It's a fitting backdrop, the sound of it smacking serenely against the window panes while the two of them barely exchange words. Clothes end up thrown everywhere, tossed aside in a rush of haste and desperation, kisses exchanged rough and messy as they stumble to Gladio's bedroom. In the end, Gladio ends up on his back with Noctis straddled over him, thighs apart and hands fumbling with the lubricant he knows the older man always keeps in his nightstand now. The liquid coats his fingers sloppily, some drops dribbling onto Gladio's naked chest before Noctis pushes them into himself.

He doesn't have the patience today to let Gladio do it for him, to reassure him -to take it slow and easy. Right now, what he wants is something that will burn straight through him, to be branded on the inside with the unforgettable feeling of this - _all of this._ Every moment they kissed, touched, fucked right here in this same spot. All the times Gladio teased him, tore into him, made him feel angry, sad, happy, pleasured, _alive._ He's craving it all at this moment, desperate to be overwhelmed by the simple feeling of being with him. 

Gladio tries to stop him, tells him with weak words to slow down, but the sentiment doesn't reach his eyes. There's something burning just as wildly behind them, bidding Noctis to keep going instead, to make himself pliant and craving on top of him. It spurns him on as he would any sparring match, lit up and engulfed from the inside as he keeps pushing his fingers into himself, presses them as far as they can go and curls them just barely over the spot that makes his whole body tremble while he bites out a curse.  Any other day he'd feel too self-conscious with Gladio watching him, but he's not thinking about how he himself looks right now, only devoted to the feeling of raw need entrapping him, pulling at his strings and making him feel both frenzied and determined inside. 

Gladio's fingers are also lube-slick, moving around his own cock, pumping himself fast and rough at the same time, and Noctis spies his expression between half-closed eyes, peeks at the smoothed out bliss painted across his features while trying to graft every second of it into his memories, knowing he won't be able to see him like this. This image will just be left to linger in the back of his head, distant and untouchable. It's not the first time he's wondered if he'd ever be able to regard Luna the same way, if he could touch her, want her, and leave her body a mess the way Gladio always does him, but he already knows he wouldn't be able to. 

He's always held two very distinct but powerful feelings for the both of them in a way his mind still hasn't quite reconciled, but Luna isn't someone he can bring down to this level. He's never regarded her like an equal or even someone he feels worthy of, someone he could defile himself in front of. But he wants to keep her safe and knows that their destiny is to be by each other's side. She'd told him as much when they were children - _to fulfill the prophecy_.

But the basest part of him wants to be pushed to the very edge like this, to forget his responsibilities and his birthright and feel something real and tangible underneath him, to surrender to it completely, let it drown, strangle, and bury him alive. He's etching that desire out in the way he climbs over Gladio at last, the way his hand reaches for him unceremoniously, pressing the tip of his cock into himself, and there's not enough lube or preparation to lessen the searing burn of stretched muscle around him, feeling himself being pulled apart as he sinks down. Yet the ache is so _present_ and overwhelming that Noctis relishes it for once, wanting the pain to stay there and wanting to make the feeling last after this day, clinging to a past that's rapidly falling between the cracks of his fingers.

A quiet exhalation breaks free from his throat, the sound strange and foreign, but Noctis doesn't dwell on it as he rocks himself, doesn't even let himself adjust before he moves. 

"Take it easy!" Gladio tries to warn him.

Words fallen on deaf ears as Noctis thrusts himself down extra hard in defiance.

"Not in the mood," he answers back selfishly and does it again for good measure, pushing himself past the pain as he sinks down even lower.

There's too much of Gladio, too much of his scent and heat everywhere, and he tries to watch the older man's face through bleary eyes, following the lines of it, mesmerized by the worry and carnality reflected in his eyes. Noctis only responds to his hunger alone, feeding it unrepentantly as his fingers grip the headboard to start pushing himself down roughly, moving over him with more speed and force than he's ever allowed his body to expend. 

Gladio's hands immediately grab onto his hips to steady him, trying to guide him and keep him balanced before it becomes a sheer battle of who can fuck each other harder with his hips thrusting furiously off the bed as Noctis matches the brutal pace by dropping down on his cock. He wrings every groan out of himself, starting to choke out air as his whole body ignites from the contact. Raw pleasure scorches its way up along his spine, leaving him arched sharply over Gladio as he feels him tremble and jerk in response beneath him, dragging him down to try and bury his cock deeply inside of him.

He can tell when Gladio's just as close to coming as himself, watching sweat crawl down his forehead while being entranced by the way Gladio's lips open and close with each pant and the way his upper torso starts to heave with the effort just to breathe. 

"Damn it, Noct-," he rasps out, "shit, keep going!" 

"You too," Noctis replies, and he reaches down to suddenly pull Gladio up into a sitting position, arms embracing him tightly as he screws himself down onto his dick with frantic desperation now, wanting to finish yet not wanting it to end either. But his body doesn't let him cling to the sensation of being on the verge of falling apart much longer- shaking with urgency and total abandon until he can't bear the pressure throbbing between his legs. He comes hard while hugging Gladio to himself, forcing him in deep as his fingers curl around his hair and his whole body clamps tightly around him as though he's trying to leave every lasting impression of Gladio inside of himself. 

Gladio holds him in return, cradling the back of his head while his other hand stays on his lower back, palm pressed flat against it. He doesn't last much longer underneath him, and his voice is a tight whisper of his name, breathed out into his ear, the sound of it more stricken and sincere than he's ever heard Gladio say anything before. It makes something in his chest bloom with fresh pain, the ache of it extending to his limbs as Noctis pulls back slowly just to look at him. Just to kiss him over and over, trying to remember what his lips feel and taste like, knowing deep in his heart that nothing will ever feel this good or real to him. 

They clean one another up after with some spare towels before Noctis collapses into his preferred side of the bed, lying on his stomach, and he feels Gladio's fingers absently toying with the hair on the back of his neck before tickling the top of his spine and pressing a quick kiss between his shoulder blades. He tries to remember that feeling deep into his sleep and when he wakes up the next morning to his cell phone buzzing incessantly. 

It's Gladio who picks it up and answers with a quick, "Yeah, he's here." 

That's definitely Ignis, but Noctis isn't in the mood to deal with his worry right now as he curls up away from Gladio and the phone. His whole body hurts, and he's already regretting being so savage with it the night before as Gladio tries to shake him awake.

"I'll bring him over," he continues to speak into the phone, and Noctis pretends not to hear it as he drags the blanket over his head and groans.

"Come on, Sleeping Ugly," he murmurs to him, shaking him harder, "taking you home." 

"Ugggghhh," is his very intelligible response as he's dragged out of bed and shoved into the bathroom.

It's hard to get dressed, even harder to return to normal and pretend last night never happened. They hadn't really talked much about it at all, but they both knew it was the end without saying anything. What more could they really say? Noctis is heading off to be married, and Gladio will be taking his spot as his shield. There's no real way around it, and they both have solemnly accepted that fact even long before the engagement had been announced. Now, it's just a matter of sealing the deal, but Noctis hasn't really thought much further about it. He doesn't even know what he'll say when he sees Luna, only wanting to make sure she's all right before anything else. 

Just before leaving the apartment, Gladio stops him at the door and turns him to face him. His own eyes flicker around a little uncertainly waiting for him to do something before deciding to break the silence himself.

"You don't have to-"

A finger on his mouth halts him before Gladio removes it and replaces it with his lips. It's a soft, chaste kiss, but the message is clear: _Goodbye._

Noctis' eyes slide shut briefly to cradle in the warm tears, just enjoying it and sighing into Gladio's slightly parted lips before the older man pulls away. And suddenly his mouth feels irreparably naked without him, but he stays quiet and just nods. 

Then they both head out, and it all feels so _final_ that Noctis can't quell the unyielding pain digging through his chest as he thinks about it. It's always hard to let go, but he doesn't regret having done any of it. 

 

**013.**

 

Their first few days out on the road prove to be …complicated. A broken down car and the desert heat leaves Gladio constantly tense about how they're exactly going to make it all the way to Galdin Quay at this point. Earning money is a bit of a chore when they only have Lucian money on them, and their provisions are already running low, having packed enough for what should have been a day trip. It's been five days since they've first set out, and in that time, Noctis has developed some terrible sun burns on his arms and face while Prompto has given himself food poisoning eating who knows what, and Ignis and he are working double-time trying to keep the smaller half of their retinue alive and in one piece. 

They spend most of their nights out camping to save money, the four of them squeezed into one tent with Noctis curled up on the very edge and Gladio left staring at his back. If he's feeling generous with himself, he lets his hand creep up to touch his hair sometimes, absently stroking it or just holding onto it like he always used to in order to keep reassuring himself that the prince is there all throughout the night. It's bad enough he's cut his own life span in half with all the times his heart has come to a screeching stop because Noctis had thrown himself into battle without thinking or had been nearly clawed, tusked, ripped, and torn in half by the local wildlife. 

While he should have more confidence in Noctis' ability to survive, it's become rather obvious that Noctis' training in the Citadel never prepared him for actual opponents. He looks woefully out of his league up against them, constantly warping around in a frenzy and screwing up tactics in spite of Ignis' best efforts to help him. Occasionally, he'll actually manage a smooth kill, and Gladio would feel a little pride but those moments are few and far between. For the most part, Gladio's usually left trying to clean up the prince's mess or sliding in his way to take a hit for him.

Ignis is the one that patches them all up together on most nights while the fire crackles warmly and comfortingly in front of them, but Noctis will occasionally run his hands over some of the bandaged areas on his body or just flat out stare at him like he wants to touch him everywhere. It's only been a little more than a week since they were last together, and being stuck together like this is rather taxing on the both of them. When they're not arguing, they're definitely twitchy and restless, and any camp-side training usually devolves into a lot of aimless shoving and rolling around until he's the one who has to pry Noctis off and forget the way his breath feels against his face. 

They end their latest trek close to sundown, the sounds of daemons howling in the night breaking through the stillness. Noctis looks like he could fall asleep while standing, and Ignis is trying desperately to wipe the dirty smudges off his glasses. Prompto buzzes around them like a blond-haired mosquito snapping pictures that Noctis does try to pose for before dropping into his chair. 

"Please tell me you're making something more than toast," he groans towards Ignis who is already fiddling with the cooking equipment.

"Thanks to your royal catch of the day, I do have something particularly appetizing in mind." 

Gladio pretends not to notice the way Noctis' face lights up with childish glee at that. He'd gotten to spend most of the morning by the gorge fishing, much to his delight, and though he hadn't caught anything particularly impressive, he'd gathered enough decently-sized fish to stuff into one of their coolers and save until they can get the regalia back. By now, they've probably made more than enough to pay off repairs and then some, which is good. Even though he actually likes camping, he's not sure how easily he can sleep cramped in close quarters with Noctis tossing beside him reminding him of everything he'd been sorely missing since they left Insomnia. 

It already feels like so much had changed in those few days alone, though Noctis seems to at least be enjoying himself when he's not incessantly complaining about missing his luxuries. It's kind of refreshing to see and almost makes him regret he never really took him out camping when they were still together. It might have been nice to sleep under the stars together at least once without waking up to sabertusks scavenging around them for food.

The four of them end up eating around the fire with Noctis nodding off midway through his meal before Prompto has to all-but physically drag him into the tent. Gladio's the last one awake, dousing out the flames of the campfire before crawling in next to Noctis, and his hand, as usual, finds it way to stroke his hair, lightly brushing over the warmth of his scalp before trailing the tips down his neck. 

He's just about to close his own eyes when Noctis' whole body turns to face him, eyes peeking open in the darkness, staring back at him with an expression Gladio can't see that well. He's tempted to run his fingers over his face to see if he can read it by touch but refrains because he knows himself and he knows Noctis. It'll be difficult to stop if he keeps luring himself in like this, and Noctis is self-indulgent enough to lean in towards him instead of away like he should. 

They both end up quietly staring at each other through the dark, listening to one another's faint breaths until Noctis finally closes his eyes again. He doesn't move from his position but does drift off back to sleep, and Gladio's so wired that he's left staring at his body rise and fall with his breaths, fingers still itching to touch him. He wonders how long the urge will remain or whether or not he'll move past it. He's not exactly the pining type, but he also doesn't have the luxury of looking for someone else to spend the night with when his main priority is guarding Noctis now. It makes the evenings feel longer sometimes, but he tries to find it his way to sleep, too. 

It doesn't take long until the car is back in their possession, and another day later, the four of them finally reach Galdin Quay, though they decide to steal an extra night camping by the beach before they even approach the boat docks. Gladio also tries to squeeze in a little training with Noctis by racing him up and down the beach a few times as the sun starts to rise, covering them both in a pleasantly warm orange glow. 

He hears Noctis laugh easily beside him just before sprinting past him like a black blur that almost makes Gladio feel a little proud at his progress. Several months ago, there would have been no way Noctis would have ever beaten him, yet here he is, gloating as he shakes sand from his boots and dances away from where Gladio tries to grab him in for a victory headlock.  

"Come on, one more," Gladio asks, but Noctis shakes his head as the wind tosses his fringe into his eyes. 

"No way. I won fair and square." 

"So you're afraid you can't do it again?" 

That seems to ignite Noctis' competitive spirit right away as he knows the guy likes to win more than anything. 

"'course, I can. This one counts for everything then. Winner picks what we eat tonight."

They don't exactly have a huge array of ingredients, but Gladio would like to dig into some meat that isn't fish for a night. It'd be worth it to change things up a little. Not to mention, he also likes to win. 

The both of them position themselves at the starting line before Gladio signals them to go. By now, they've relieved themselves of their sand-filled shoes and are running barefoot along the sand, feeling the tide drift in and wet their feet. It's almost nearing noon, and he's sprinting as fast as he can while hearing Noctis' breath pick up next to him. It's clear they're winded after doing this a few times, but Gladio isn't about to give up especially when he knows Noctis' fatal weakness is still his poor stamina.

That means conserving enough energy to get to the halfway point and granting Noctis an early lead, letting him think he's going to win. That's when he rushes ahead, pulling passed him without even glancing over at him, and he can hear Noctis curse somewhere behind him in irritation.

"How did you do that?!" he huffs out.

"I know you," Gladio simply replies before continuing to run ahead.

He's almost to the finish line, legs burning as he speeds up, though he doesn't expect the sudden shock from his peripheral as Noctis barrels into him to knock him away. It sends the two of them sprawling towards the shore just in time to be hit with a wave to the face. 

Noctis surprises him by laughing at his own antics and rolling off of him, one hand pushing through his own hair to smooth away his dark strands. Gladio can't help eying the simple action, noting the way the heat and exertion have painted the prince's face pink all along his nose bridge and cheeks, and there's already a light dusting of freckles forming around his collar bones and shoulders, peeking through the thin black shirt he has on. 

"I can't believe you did that," Gladio remarks with a snort, pushing his own hair back and staring down at his now-wet clothes, "just for that, I win by default." 

Noctis replies with a splash of water sent towards his face before grumbling a quiet "alright, alright" beneath his breath. He doesn't look as cranky as he does when he usually loses, but it must be the atmosphere. The sun makes the water glitter brighter, leaving the clouds painted vividly on the clear surface as they roll over them, and there's the strong scent of sand and salt in the air. He knows Noctis loves being near water just as much as he himself enjoys being out in the wilderness, so it's a natural relaxant. 

His back reclines on the wet sand was the water rolls over them, and he ends up half-turning to watch Noctis more openly as the prince tugs his own soaked shirt away from his chest and exhales. He doesn't bother hiding the fact that he's staring at him even when he knows he should, feeling like a man who's walking blindly through the flames as he lets his eyes linger everywhere. Age has made Noctis grow a little too pretty for his own good, but that's probably for the best. He needs something to make up for the fact that every other sentence out of his mouth is usually something idiotic.

He's always at his most attractive when he's quiet and contemplative, looking a lot older than his visage entails, his eyes staring off to a distant point that Gladio won't ever be able to see. It's difficult not to be ensnared by the sight of him and to not want to run his fingers over his eyelids and down his cheeks before pushing his thumb between his chapped lips and just feeling the hot air from his mouth touch him.

Fortunately, the moment doesn't last long as Noctis finally realizes he's being stared at, and his shoulders hunch inwards, head lowering a bit to hide more of his face behind his dark hair. "What's that look for?" 

"You look like a drowned stray with your hair like that." 

He sees Noctis' arm coming out towards him to smack him, and he intervenes fast before it makes contact, using the grip to suddenly drag the prince over him and trap him. Again, walking blindly into a wall of flames here, but he's convinced he's still got complete control of the situation even as Noctis moves to sit over his thighs and just stares down at him with his eyes looking lighter than he remembers. 

Gladio's sinking fast into the sheer blue of them, knowing how tantalizing it feels to be caught in Noctis' stare in return, and there's nothing he can really do about it as the resounding heat of Noctis' body spreads all over him. For a moment, it feels like he just did something very stupid and will be spiraling into regret in a few minutes as Noctis' nose touches his, lips hovering too far for him to touch but close enough for him to smell Noctis' breakfast still on his breath. One of his hands idly rises to pass through his hair, gently brushing his fringe away just so he can get a better look at his eyes from up close. He's losing himself in the color of them, though he can't think of anything cheeky to say to shatter the moment like he should -like he _needs_ to. 

Instead, Noctis is the first one to speak, his voice so quiet it's almost lost beneath the sound of the ocean's tide crashing around them. 

"I …," he starts, and each word after tickles Gladio's own mouth with the way his breath crawls over his skin, "I have sand in my underwear." 

Because, of course, Noctis would be the one to shatter the moment first anyway. Even so, Gladio can't help but letting out a hearty laugh as he ruffles his hair good-naturedly. 

"The horror," he comments before helping Noctis to sit up as he rises with him, "go and get changed. Don't get any of that in the tent." 

Noctis' feet move a little unsteadily as he gains his footing before absently squeezing his shirt, wringing out the ocean water. His eyes flicker up to Gladio's face fast before darting away with clear uncertainty. When he nods, it's quick and barely perceptible, but Gladio can tell the prince hadn't exactly remained unaffected by the past few seconds from the way he waddles away and kicks irritably at the sand. Just a few weeks ago, he could have easily helped him out, but now, there's just that unbidden longing ripping a hole through the center of his chest, knowing how easy it is to hold him and touch him when he's this close to his reach but also knowing he's not his to touch. He's no one's, not even the princess's, but he might be …one day. 

Regardless, Gladio has a royal imperative to make sure he gets to Altissia and gets married, and his birthright won't allow him to fail an order like that. He doesn't care if he has to strap the prince to his back and swim there, though he's really hoping it doesn't come to that, but thinking that might have jinxed the four of them when they find out the boats are suspended and not traveling to Altissia. 

A day later, they get the news about Insomnia's fall. 

Gladio's heart stops when he hears it, fingers starting to tingle as the rest of his body grows numb in place, remembering the last words his father had said to him -replaying them obsessively in his head. Somehow, he always had a feeling he'd die protecting the king, but it shouldn't have come this soon- definitely not under the guise of what was supposed to be a brief overseas trip and a straightforward treaty signing.

Iris' face flashes through his mind, too, hoping she's alive and escaped somehow -hoping as many people as possible managed to flee the wreckage. He knows now isn't the time to panic, but he's still breaking out into a cold sweat of worry while forcing himself to keep cool on the outside because Noctis is a wreck across the room. The prince's face is ghostly pale, and he sees the way his fingers tremble, the audible quiver in his voice when he talks, sweat dotting his neck and top lip. There's wetness across his eyes just like the kind prickling his own, but all four of them are afraid to be the first one to cry.

_Their home… their memories… the last twenty-three years of his life…_

The more he thinks about it, the more it strangles the air right out him, remembering that post by the door where his father used to measure his height everyday. A pink line had been added beneath to track Iris' as she grew along with him. Then there were all his vintage books, his treasured collection. The Citadel where he met Noctis and the king for the first time. That one aging tree that he used to find Noctis sleeping under when he'd ditch practice. The arch where he had his first kiss in middle school. The armory where his father gave him his first sword.

All of it had been wiped out just like that, in the blink of an eye, and he's shredded up inside thinking about it, letting it roll around in the vestiges of his mind while he struggles to piece himself together because someone has to quickly. He can't afford to panic right now, and there's definitely not enough time to mourn.

His first priority becomes making sure Iris is safe then getting the prince back to Insomnia, which they rapidly find out is surrounded by an imperial blockade. From there, it's a whirlwind of finding the Marshal, gathering weapons, learning his sister had escaped with Jared, and finally, just making sure Noctis keeps it together. He can see how the prince now walks with a heavy gait, shoulders tense and hands constantly shaking by his side when he thinks no one is looking. 

Even though he tries to laugh and talk around them like he used to, something fundamental has changed about him, perhaps the last shred of childhood innocence he'd been clinging to being now set to flames before his eyes. Noctis becomes more quietly solemn in the backseat, eyes drifting over the terrain, following deftly along the lines of mountains on the horizon. His smiles don't quite stretch to the rest of his body language, which wants to recoil and disappear, and Gladio can tell he's withdrawing himself fast like he always does. Running away is always his favorite solution.

Then he just cracks. 

Right in front of all of them. He cries, screams, yells about his father till his voice grows broken and raw, and he collapses before them in a heap of frustrated anger and sorrow. It makes Gladio feel all too futile for once, unable to protect him from his anguish. No one can. It's something he has to deal with himself, but there's still the desire to try and pull him free from it, to do _something_ for him. But that desire never reaches fruition because he's still trying to deal with the cluster of emotions in his own head, and he isn't quite sure what the right answer to this situation is -if there is one at all. Maybe Noctis just needs to get through it on his own, but Gladio doesn't know how to stand back and stay quiet either.

Where Noctis is avoidance embodied, he's absolutely confrontational, and the moment they return to the caravan, Gladio closes the door on Prompto's face while hearing the blond protest loudly on the other side. 

"Official business," he replies back before locking it and cornering Noctis.

The prince's eyes regard him wildly, his entire countenance stiff like an anak ready to bolt, but Gladio doesn't let him. His own body is a wall fencing him in, his stare picking the prince apart, stubborn and ready. 

"What?" Noctis asks a bit too sharply, backing up from his figure right away.

 "Where's your head lately, Noct? You haven't said anything to me since we were all the way in Galdin Quay." 

He knows he's caught him off-guard because Noctis is retreating further, looking for somewhere he can crawl into, but the caravan's a tight squeeze. The only compartment is the toilet, and he doubts Noctis is going to want to stuff himself in there.

"Why are you bugging me about this now? Did you really have to toss Prompto out like that?"

"He'll be fine." He doubts the guy will take much offense if the two of them want to talk alone, especially since Gladio knows he has some clue about his and Noctis' shared history together. "It's _you_ I'm trying to talk to. When you're not fighting, you're stewing in the backseat, when you're not stewing, you're sleeping. I know you're upset, and I know you want vengeance. I want it, too." 

Noctis' lips press into a firm line as his fingers move across the nearest counter. The tips idly dance there while the prince struggles with what to say, though his eyes won't meet his. It's a familiar dance with him doing all the pushing, and Noctis standing there limply. 

"You wouldn't let yourself cry until today," he continues.

That seems to finally get a rise out of Noctis because the prince is stiffening his shoulders and raising his eyes like he wants to say something. His lips continue to twitch and move apart before he finally does manage to get something out-

"You didn't cry, either." 

He did. He hadn't stopped the tears from rolling freely even if he never showed them to a single person, but while he had gotten it all out at once, he can tell Noctis is still holding back a lot more from them. That what he'd seen before had only been the tip of the iceberg, and Noctis is tearing himself up inside with fear, anguish, and confusion. It's bad enough both their fathers had fallen, but there's also a chance his intended might be gone, too. The entire kingdom had been felled. They'd seen it with their own eyes, the crushing blow the empire had dealt to Insomnia. 

His head shakes lightly as he moves closer and with caution. "This isn't about me." 

This is about Noctis right now, about the weight that he's not sharing with anyone else around him, not even himself. About the ticking time bomb standing in front of him that he's worried he might lose in the middle of battle because Noctis isn't thinking straight at all. 

"Why is it _always_ about me?" Noctis retaliates, this time clenching his fists tightly by his sides before he turns to plop down on the nearest bunk, and his head falls heavily into his hands, obviously tired -obviously hovering at his breaking point. "What do you want to hear from me? Why can't you ever leave me the hell alone!?" 

Because if he did, Noctis would crumble to pieces, and with it, their last ray of hope to put this entire world back together. Right now, he's the world's last line of defense, but he can't seem to get that through his tiny skull, still thinking they can go back to their halcyon days of hanging around in the arcade, fishing by the gorge, training under the late afternoon sun in front of the Citadel.

Those days are long gone now, and Noctis needs to wake up.

The distance between them closes quickly as Gladio marches the last few steps, both hands seizing outwards to reach his slim shoulders. He can feel the bones trapped under his palms, too sharp and prominent where he shakes him until Noctis lifts tired eyes up at him. They're still red from crying earlier, shadowed underneath, the eyes of an old man and not a child. 

"Cry, yell, hit me if you have to, but don't shut yourself down!" 

That seems to cause something in Noctis to snap completely as he goes from sitting solemnly one moment to shoving him back towards the other set of bunks, pushing him so hard that his back smacks hard into the edge of the top bunk. For a moment, Noctis' pupils shrink to pinpoints, leaving him overwhelmed by the blue around as he glares at him, and there's something vehement in them that Gladio knows isn't aimed at him completely. That's the expression of a man who won't be sated by anything less than the sight of blood, but it disappears just as quickly as it appeared and Noctis pries himself away to look him more squarely in the eye. 

"I know! _I know!_ Don't you think I don't hate the fact that I can never go home again?!" 

The end of that statement is spoken with a shaky voice as wetness floods Noctis' eyes once more, and he watches the prince press his palms to his screwed shut eyelids and tips his head back like he can somehow stop the flow like that. His whole body appears to be quivering now while he stands there, wracked with quick, dry sobs, and Gladio doesn't exactly feel satisfied he broke the last few bricks left in the dam, so to speak. He knows he had to, but at the same time, seeing him like this kills him just as much.

"What more do you want from me?" Noctis repeats, but it sounds so broken and pitiful that Gladio is the one left feeling guilty for pushing him this far. He shouldn't have come in here with the intent to wage war with him.

One of his hands slowly rises to drop on Noctis' shoulder once more, making the prince flinch, but he doesn't pull it away, instead gripping Noctis tightly and tugging him in towards his body. He holds him, one armed, palm moving to press flat against his upper back, and his chin lands on the top of his head letting Noctis shake against him.

An eternity passes like that, the silence stretched out around them, while he waits for the younger man to calm down. When he finally does, Gladio still doesn't quite want to let him go, remembering how his body used to fit next to him on the coldest nights in Insomnia. It's a feeling he still misses like crazy and still longs for all the time, and right now, he'd give anything just to keep that door locked and to pull him into bed with him, kiss him numb and fuck him until they both forget everything that happened the past couple of weeks -forgets everything except each other's name. But he knows that regardless of their being a wedding or not, that part of their lives also exists only in the past. Right now, they have more important things to focus on, and he can't take that away from Noctis. 

Besides, if it turns out that Luna _is_ still alive, he couldn't live with himself if he stood between them. Noctis had been hurting badly since he found out she'd been embroiled in the attack instead of waiting for him patiently in Altissia. It's clear where his heart lies at the moment, and that's something he'd accepted long ago. His only role now is to uphold the promise of the Amicitia clan to protect the crown, and he will do all he can to see Noctis through to the end of his journey. He intends to honor the oath he'd sworn to him ten years ago.

"Do what you have to do, Noct," he finally whispers quietly into his hair, his breath gently ruffling the strands there, "I'll go where you go." 

 

**014.**

 

Tremors rack the region violently as they travel to Lestallum, though all Gladio can think about is seeing Iris again, having only heard her voice on the phone up until now. It's not enough to reassure him, wanting to touch her and hold her, make sure she truly had survived. He owes a lot to Jared for getting her out of Insomnia during the invasion and is impatient to reach her like he knows the others are. Even Noctis had expressed relief when he found out about her still being alive, as he's always cared for her as though she were his own little sister, a fact that Gladio occasionally finds endearing. 

Since their exchange in the caravan, the two of them hadn't been alone again at all, which had probably been for the best. He hadn't wanted to snap at him again, and he knows Noctis is also fighting to accept his current circumstances still and keep his focus leveled on trying to find the royal arms. They have a long road ahead of the, but they're all ambling to keep the spirit light rather than be entrenched in sorrow. 

Fortunately, Lestallum isn't too far of a drive once they've cut through Duscae, a path that had taken longer because Prompto just _had_ to see the chocobos, which also meant another detour to slay a behemoth. That hadn't exactly been pleasant, but thanks to Ignis' ingenuity, none of them ended up as its dinner. Noctis had been given the most nerve-wracking task of following the beast back to its hideout, which had made Gladio sweat more bullets than he cares to admit he had, knowing any wrong move could leave the prince torn between its vile claws. To his surprise, Noctis had maintained his cool the entire time and had followed their advice, indicating he'd been starting to cope better with the death of his father and Insomnia's fall. He doubts he'll ever truly be over with it, but he's at least given Gladio some renewed faith that he can concentrate on his duty at the moment over anything else. 

When they finally park under the blazing sun, Gladio takes a moment to step out of the car and inhale the fresh scent of the local food carts, the heavy smell dragging pleasantly through the air under the more overpowering scent that seems to permanently waft from the plant nearby. It's as welcoming as it is heady and nauseating, and he makes a note to take a eating tour of this place once they've met up with Iris.

Unfortunately, their progress is cut a bit short as Noctis suddenly doubles over next to him, face growing pale as he clutches his head and starts groaning like he's going to be sick all over the pavement any second now. Ignis is the first one at his side, rubbing his back and trying to steady him while he and Prompto hover around worriedly, wondering if it was the smell that got to him. Noctis ends up offering nothing in terms of explanation, waving it off once the moment has passed and staggering along, though Gladio can't shake off his own concern. 

It wouldn't be a good time for him to get sick, and it's definitely not a good time to push him along if he is. But who knows how much rest they'll even get in this place? They have a lot of things to take care of while they're here, so he gives him a gentle nudge on the back, hand flat against it as he leads him through the bustling streets.

Noctis has a second episode in the hotel with the same results, face drained of color, fingers moving to his hair as his body hangs at the waist, and he looks like he wants to retch. Even Iris' face scrunches up in worry, and whatever ideas he had about a sweet reunion are quickly dissolved as they're all left standing helpless, waiting for the moment to pass. 

This time, Noctis has a harder time shaking it off, and he can tell he looks unsteady and confused beneath their scrutiny, not wanting to worry them. Ignis is the one who ends up suggesting they stay in the hotel for the night and get some rest. With that, the prince instantly crashes into the first mattress he sees, body curling up into a mess of limbs over the sheets while Gladio watches his back. 

"Are you sure he's going to be okay?" Iris asks in a quiet whisper, and Gladio gives her a nod, though he's not certain what's happening to him.

Maybe all that progress from before had actually been taking its toll on him. His power had been increasing exponentially with the acquisition of the royal arms, but it might still be more than he had been prepared to handle. While Gladio had trained him as best as he could, there are some skills and abilities that had been too far out of his expertise to really teach him about. He isn't part of his bloodline, and King Regis could have easily filled in those gaps for him if he had the time to do so. At his age, however, it must have become impossible compared to Noctis who is still young and who seemingly has limitless potential at this point. Who knows how far he'll come along in surpassing his old man at this rate? 

The thought dwells in his mind as he sits across from Iris in one of the other rooms to exchange a few more quiet words. 

"Things have been hectic here," she tells him, "all this seismic activity has been worrying the locals. Some say it's coming from the disc, but it's being barricaded by the imperials." 

"As expected. Guess it won't be easy trying to investigate." 

Who knows what's really lying on the other side? He's curious to find out now, but they'll have to wait until Noctis is feeling better to investigate it. 

"I'd like to see it, too. Why can't I go with you guys?" 

_Over there?!_ She's got to be kidding. He'd sprout too many grey hairs having her close to an unstable area like that. She's a brave girl, but there are some places still beyond her reach at this point.

"You'll be safer here with Jared and Talcott. Besides, I got to keep all eyes on sleepyhead over there-" his head tilts in the direction of the bedroom where he left Noctis sleeping. 

"I know, but-"

Her lips press tightly together as her fingers ball into fists in her lap. He knows she's still hurting about their father, that she doesn't just want to stay behind and do nothing. It's why Gladio finally lets himself embrace her, pulling her in close and squeezing her gently as his chin rests on the top of her head.

"Please do this for me," he asks quietly, his voice softer than any he'd use in front of the guys, "I don't want anything to happen to you, too." 

That seems to mollify her as she sags in his embrace and nods beneath him. It's a relief, having thought she'd have put up a bit more of a fight. With their father gone, he's got to be the voice of discipline here, though he'd long since taken that role years ago when his father had become too busy with his service to the crown. He ended up having to look after her on his own more often than not and had never stopped feeling responsible for her well-being. Right now is no different, wanting the peace of mind in knowing she's far away from the danger. 

His arms drop away for a moment, and he ruffles her hair gently, offering her a small smile -again, one more gentle than he'd ever use in front of the others. 

"Get some rest, okay? I'll let you show Noct around tomorrow when he wakes up." 

Her spirits brighten instantly at that as she hops from her position and smiles. It's the least he can do even if Noctis might be annoyed about it later, but it's not as though he isn't used to his ceaseless complaining. 

After Iris has gone to her own room for the night, Gladio retreats to their set of double beds. Ignis has taken a cozy spot next to Noctis to keep an eye on him in case he wakes up in pain while Prompto is passed out on the other bed, half hanging off of it as he snores open-mouthed. He's never been Gladio's first-choice in bed partners, but at least, he doesn't take up a lot of space, a sentiment he instantly regrets thinking when Prompto ends up whacking him with a stray arm somewhere in the middle of the night. Then the rest of his body migrates half on top him as he calls mumbles something about chocobos in his ear. Just what kind of dreams is he having…? 

Gladio has to physically pry him off after and try to turn him on his opposite side with a frustrated huff, but he does eventually get a few hours of very unsatisfying sleep. They all wake up far before Noctis and let him sleep in while they go their separate ways. Ignis immediately beelines to the marketplace to buy ingredients while Prompto ends up taking photos at the lookout post. He himself decides to do some solo training for once and hunt a few local daemons, which barely leave a scratch on him. 

The workout makes his muscles pleasantly burn and leaves his mind clear as he delves hypnotically into the reflexive motions of his arms swinging downwards, his legs dancing smoothly over the grass. It's easy to put aside his worries for a moment, to let the heat embrace him as sweat dribbles down his face. In those moment, he thinks back to Noctis' youthful form, staring across from him, a small smile painted across his lips as he runs in to try and slice him. His form is always too sloppy, leaving his defenses wide open and being all too predictable, but he makes up for his flaws by executing his attacks with a speed that even Gladio has trouble deflecting. 

It had been too long since they'd sparred together at their camps, but Noctis had also been pointedly avoiding any alone time with him for good reason. There are a lot of dangerous words lingering on the both of their tongues that have been itching to tumble out, things he himself has had to swallow so often already, and the comfort their old relationship used to bring them is always a trap that they could easily fall into once more. Aside from that, they'd learned Luna had passed through Lestallum not too long ago, which had been a relief for him. Though the question of the wedding is still up in there air, he remembers how content Noctis had looked just learning she'd survived. When he finally meets up with her, he knows that Noctis will be incredibly happy. Reuniting with the girl that's been on his mind for twelve years… it's almost bittersweet in a way, but Gladio wants to get him there.

The last creature falls before him, and Gladio shakes the blood off the edge of his sword before letting it dissolve from his grip. His whole body is left pleasantly aching as he returns to the hotel, ready to indulge himself in Ignis' cooking. By then, Noctis has returned from his 'date' sight-seeing with his sister and manages to look a little put-out by the whole ordeal. He almost wants to laugh at his expression, but he doesn't have time to tease him about it as Noctis doubles over in front of them immediately.

This time the headache seems to linger as Noctis cradles his head and grits his teeth, looking like he might actually pass out from it. It's hard not to worry, reassuring Iris again that it'll pass though she looks like she thinks she had somehow caused it. Gladio ends up volunteering to get him upstairs to rest once more, draping an arm around his waist as he guides the prince. For once, Noctis isn't protesting at all, sluggishly climbing his way up to their room before dropping onto the bed. His breaths sound heavy as sweat dots his face all over, and his hair is plastered down to his eyes, covering the most expressive part of him.

"Sleep it off," Gladio encourages, and he hears Prompto and Ignis already fumbling around in the adjoining room to start cooking and setting up the table. 

"They're getting worse," Noctis admits and rolls onto his back so he can press the heels of both his palms into his eyes. 

"Any idea what's causing it?"

The prince shakes his head before deciding that's a bad idea as he sits up lightning fast and immediately deposits his breakfast next to the bed. Gladio barely has enough time to keep him from tipping off the side of the bed, grabbing him by the back of his pants while his other hand rubs circles onto his back. This is something Ignis should be dealing with more since he's got a better handle on all the curatives, but he doesn't want to disturb him when he's busy in the kitchen already. Instead, he drags Noctis back and forces him to lie down before finding a towel to try and clean the mess up.

"You're a handful as usual," he grumbles, "did you really have to drink that much orange juice this morning?" 

"Iris insisted," Noctis shoots back in return, "blame her. Why did she have to serve me so much?" 

Why indeed? Gladio doesn't exactly like cleaning up after the guy, but he also can't help but wonder if it's something in the atmosphere that's making him sick all of the sudden. He'll have to check out that plant himself later and see for himself. For now, he lets Noctis catch a nap, absently dragging the blanket over him. His fingers linger over his hair, brushing over the short strands and teasing himself with the soft texture that he can't stop himself from missing all the time. How many times had he anchored his grip in there as Noctis had been lying next to him, under him, over him, between his legs, anywhere his body wanted to fit. 

He really had gone without companionship too long, something that's starting to rattle him a little when even watching the prince throw up all over the floor isn't enough to cool the growing sensation of heat wrapping tightly around each and every one of nerve endings as he watches his face smooth out in sleep. This is not one of his finer moments -same goes for Noctis right now. At least, he has enough sense not to try and join him, instead staunchly avoiding staying in the same room alone and letting him rest until lunch time rolls around. 

They all sit around the table and end up making quick plans to drive up to the Cauthess Disc, but the one wrench in it is getting past the imperial blockade. That's where their old friend from Galdin Quay comes in, and Gladio is immediately on edge around him, something about him not sitting quite right with his instincts. He doubts he's the only one immediately suspicious of him, but he's also their golden ticket at the moment. It's what makes him set aside his better judgment and actually trust him to guide them all there. 

Noctis isn't looking any better around him, the headaches constantly coming and going, and he shows the same unease towards their travel companion as the rest of them, which makes for one exceedingly awkward night's stay when they're in the caravan together. There's definitely not enough room for four of them let alone five, and nobody wants to even bunk close to the guy.

The shortage of beds means that one of them has to sleep on the floor, and Gladio ends up taking one for the team, wanting to keep an eye on the traveler anyway. At least, if he's uncomfortable, he'll be forced to stay awake and make sure nothing happens to the other three with that guy in the caravan. 

Fortunately, aside from being uncomfortable the whole night, nothing of substance happens unless one wants to count the red-headed creep fawning over Prompto's photos as something eventful. Gladio would prefer to scrub the memory loose from his head, but true to his word, the guy gets them to the disc. And everything spirals down fast from there with one angry god trying to punch holes through him and Noctis as the terrain falls apart all around him.

Gladio doesn't remember the last time he'd felt that terrified in his life nor the last time he'd been forced to suck up that much fear and just push himself forward. He had too many close calls with Noctis to count, having seen him skitter off the edge then nearly lose his balance again and again. Each time, his heart would stop, and his whole body would be forced to move on sheer reflex while his mind would turn into a brewed up mess in his head, trying to make sense of the situation.

By the time they had any repose, he had snapped at Noctis, knowing he had no choice because mincing words wasn't going to cut it with both of them in the states they'd been in. They had an actual god intent on destroying them, and he knew he couldn't afford to take it easy on Noctis and wind up letting him die right there. The two of them had to be on their toes and ready to fight, and with Noctis' body feeling unwell from the heat and the pressure in his head, he knew the prince was already one wrong step away from instant death.

And when Noctis lashed out back at him, he refused to back down, staring at him squarely in the eye and trying to make him understand that he had a duty to uphold. His family, his pride, his _oath_. They'd all be rendered meaningless if Noctis didn't choose to fight back and fight to live. Noctis doesn't have the luxury of taking it easy anymore. It's no longer just about winning the fight but surviving to see another day, and right then, the god had been asking to see him at his very best. The god had been waiting to meet a king and not a lost and frightened man-child.

His words had woken Noctis up in time to start defending himself in earnest, and he could see the immediate shift in demeanor as Noctis raged back against Titan and raised his sword against him. It had also been the first time he'd seen him execute his armiger attack with the royal arms he'd collected, which had proven to be an interesting spectacle as the weapons wound around him in an ostentatious display of light and color while Noctis slashed frantically at the Archaean. In the end, the four of them had come out victorious, if not worse for the wear, but their car had been another story along with the reveal that their traveler had been none other than the chancellor of Niflheim the entire time. Gladio had been right not to trust him, a fact that had become all the more obvious when they were left stranded without a car and being buried under the pouring rain. 

Now, the four of them are left slogging through the marshes of the Duscae region while Gladio can't stop himself from sneezing at the growing chill. Noctis looks even worse next to him, not having had a bath or any sleep in what feels like an eternity. His body continues to careen near Prompto's while the blond helpfully keeps him steady and upright.

"How much longer back to Lestallum?" Noctis asks.

"Quite a ride away by chocobo, but we should make it there just as evening starts to settle," Ignis replies. 

Thankfully, they have the chocobo whistle handy because covering all that ground on foot would wear even Gladio out. He'd rather take the express route and get them all bathed and in bed just in time to miss the iron giants chasing them down a tunnel in impotent rage. 

When their chocobos finally arrive, Prompto keeps trying to make sure Noctis won't fall off of it while the prince swats him away.

"I think I can handle riding a chocobo." 

"You sure we shouldn't try and put a makeshift seatbelt on that thing."

"It's not as though he would use it," Ignis chimes in, "I've yet to see him wear one in the car." 

"Only because you drive like an old lady, so I don't even need it most of the time," Noctis fires back.

Ignis looks particularly offended at the comment as he hops on his own chocobo. 

"I'll let that one go since I am well aware how cranky you get when you're tired." 

They all steal intermittent glances back at Noctis as they ride towards Lestallum, noting that he keeps lagging behind and nodding off at intervals. He almost falls off once, but Gladio angles his chocobo so he can shove him awake and push him upright before giving him a look that says 'don't fall asleep yet.' 

"I got this," Noctis continues to insist, but no one is really convinced.

It's already evening by the time they pass through the long tunnel on the way to Lestallum, and they have to kick the four chocobo into gear to avoid the noisy groans of daemons awakening behind them. Now is about the worst time to get into any kind of fight, and Gladio isn't even sure if he has the strength himself to hold off the cavalry. 

Luckily, they manage to cross into Lestallum's borders and head straight to the Leville and into bed. Noctis is the first to collapse without bothering with a bath, and Gladio himself considers washing up for a moment before deciding it could wait until morning. Only Prompto and Ignis bother, though the two of them had been spared most of the stress of trying to weave around molten rock and inferno to try and confront a cranky god. He almost envies them at the moment but doesn't feel like he even has the energy for that. 

He's so tired he doesn't notice that he's plopped right down next to Noctis, only becomes marginally aware of that fact when Noctis' arm slides over his stomach, laying there like a dead eel and unwittingly dragging him into the past. In his dreams, they're slightly younger, and Noctis is laughing a little more easily than he had this whole trip, eyes nearly closed as he clutches his phone in his hand and teases him about finally losing to him in King's Knight. It's hard to believe he might never see him look that same way again, unburdened and vibrant, but perhaps Noctis had always been a mess on the inside. He'd just gotten less adept at hiding it as the years go by and as the thoughts overflow, making them harder to conceal when they threaten spill out of every broken seam. If only they both could traipse back into a simpler point in time where they hadn't been living each day fighting to stay alive, but that's a feverish wish his mind only conjures up between sheets. 

The morning always brings with it the harsh nature of reality in the form of sunlight biting at the back of his eyelids, and Gladio's whole body still feels like it's on fire as he reluctantly peels Noctis' arm away. Had he really left it there all night? It's more endearing than he'd like to admit to himself, but he forces himself not to dwell on him, not to even toss him a second glance, as his eyes scan the whole room. Prompto and Ignis' bed appears to be empty and already made meaning they probably woke up early and went to stock up on supplies. 

That buys him a bit of peaceful shower time as he starts stripping all the burnt clothes off of himself before he even reaches the bathroom. After all that heat from the Cauthess Disc, he figured he had his fill of steam for a good while, yet nothing feels more euphoric at the moment than the warm water pelting his sore muscles. It's like a thousand small fingers pressing into all his pressure points at once, making him melt against their touch until he wants to groan and stand there drenching himself forever. 

He's so engrossed in the relaxing warm-bristle sensation that rolls across his limbs that he doesn't even notice when someone else walks into the bathroom until the old dingy curtain is shuffled aside. That's when all his joints lock up and tense at once like he's preparing to do battle, only instead of the hollow MT eyes he's used to seeing, there's Noctis' gaze in front of him looking eerie and unreadable.

It's not an expression he's ever seen on him before, and he doesn't know how to interpret it, hands still where the soap sits against his own chest, feeling a little over-scrutinized. In all the years he's known Noctis, he's never seen him flat-out stare at him like a wild animal, and alarm bells are going off in his head, triggered to the fact that something is very wrong with this picture. 

Noctis ends up breaking the gaze after a few of the lengthiest seconds Gladio's ever experienced, and he watches as the prince suddenly starts removing his clothes without much ceremony or care, tossing them on the ground next to his. 

"You know, you could stand to wait five measly minutes. I'm almost done here." 

It's an attempt to make light of the situation, trying to cut through the eerie tension surrounding Noctis as he whips off the last article of clothing -his underwear- on the ground. He then spies the prince opening his mouth like he wants to say something in regards to that, though the words aren't shaken loose, and his eyes scrape over the ground, lashes twitching distractedly. 

For a second, Gladio thinks he'll turn around and retreat, but he doesn't. Instead, he stands between his own body and the shower head, letting the water plaster down his hair, and there's so much grime on his body that the water beneath them turns black as it all runs down from his skin in muddy rivulets. Gladio's eyes watch as they disappear down the drain before staring quizzically at Noctis' face, still waiting to see what he'll do. 

Fortunately, he's not left waiting long as Noctis' hands grip his face, nails digging almost down to the bone marrow in his cheeks as he yanks his lips right against his dry, chapped ones. The charred air around the disc had left them broken and bloody, but Gladio can't seem to remind himself why this is a bad idea when he feels the torn up texture of them pressing and pushing into him, craving and insistent. 

Every other protest he can think of at the moment why he shouldn't give in right away vanishes at their inception, dissolved wildly because he misses this -wants it with a ravenous enthusiasm that borders on manic at this point as he suddenly grabs Noctis by the naked hips and forces him against his body. Too much heat cycles between, drowning in the tight warmth that drifts off his skin, feeling himself hunger for it more and more until he's glutting himself on the sensation. His own lips start to devour him, moving to bite his way through then push his tongue deep into his mouth, and Noctis' own tongue curls right against him, sucking and inviting him deeper as he angles himself right against his body with unrepentant urgency.

He can feel him already hard against his leg, pressing right into his thigh insistently, and Noctis' fingers starts to scrape down his arms and push into them before he rocks against him in that brash, messy way he approaches every battle, completely impulsive and unthinking. Everything about him feels rabid right now, and Noctis keeps branding into him that level of raw need coursing through him by violently dragging his nails over the inked skin on his back. 

His lips stay molded against his own, curved off-center and sucking fiercely, breaking the texture even more with how hard and bruising he's keeping the two of them pushed up together. Gladio can feel Noctis panting through his nose, the warm breath skittering over his cheek, the sound of it rushed and primal before Noctis tries to rub his cock harder against his inner thigh, showing his impatience already. There's something definitely unhinged about him today that's become rapidly infectious because Gladio isn't stopping to ask any questions or take it slow at all. Instead, he reads the silent plea there before turning Noctis around abruptly to take care of the both of them fast like he knows Noctis wants to in all the frenetic energy buzzing around him. 

"Hands on the wall," he murmurs low into his ear, half-expecting to be met with some kind of protest. 

When it doesn't come, his eyebrows quirk upwards watching as Noctis obediently crosses both his arms over each other against the tiled wall and rests his forehead there. It's unnerving to have him this pliant, and he resolves to ask him about it afterwards, focusing right now on taking care of the throbbing pressure running along the flesh of his own dick, the sensation exacerbated when his eyes drag down the entire length of Noctis' back where water starts to crawl down the center of his shoulder blades before pouring down the length of his lean back muscles. He looks too enticing like that, heart-wrenchingly so because he could watch him like this every night if fate ever allowed him, but knowing he might only get this moment makes him feel ravenous instead of sentimental. Whatever control he might have been able to muster for the situation had already been torched to ash the moment Noctis' lips had crushed against his own, and now he's finding himself tangled up in the welcoming heat of his body as his cock pushes between his thighs from behind. 

As much as he'd like to fuck him senseless, he's got absolutely nothing on him to ease the discomfort, and the shower water would just wash it off anyway. This is the best he can do for the both of them even if he has to bend his legs and raise Noctis' body a bit to account for the height difference. So long as he's not getting any protests, he doesn't let himself stop at all, operating on the same impulse that had lead Noctis to step in here to begin with. 

The water makes it easier to slide between Noctis' smooth thighs, pushing right under his cock and balls, letting them brush together under the moisture that's rolling between the tight compress of their bodies. One of his hands sits on Noctis' slim hip, grabbing it hard enough to leave indents with his fingers as his other hand snakes around him to cradle both their cocks, letting them line up and squeeze even tighter to create some friction in all the wetness.

The moment he does so, he feels Noctis release a full-bodied shudder against him as his face twists to one side, lips parting in a wordless cry. It's hypnotizing to watch him start to unravel like this, feeling all the sharp angles of his body suddenly melt in his grip, and he can't help thrusting harder, uncoiling desperation guiding him forward, wringing out every primitive urge from him. His own body hardly feels like it's his own right now, possessed by a desire that drills into him bone-deep, a craving that had been left unanswered too long, and he's paying for it now when he's become this crazed so quickly. He ends up feeling like a quivering, pulsing mass, wanting more -wanting everything Noctis is wiling to give, wanting to take even beyond that as he draws himself again and again right beneath his dick. The more he grinds the two of them together, the louder Noctis' skittering breath grows, catching him unabashedly gasp against the shower wall as he starts to thrust back against him to increase the pace at which they're moving together. 

They barely last more than a few seconds like that, the two of them shaking already while he claws harshly at Noctis skin just as Noctis drills his fingers into the indents between the tiled wall to stay standing and keep himself from crashing into it. His own breaths sound hoarse as they're ripped loose from his throat, released onto the back of Noctis' neck while Noctis's body arches awkwardly to follow his thrusts as they start to deconstruct one after the other. He can feel the two of them struggling hard to get a hold of their footing, and he's clinging to Noctis as hard as he can, breathing in the natural scent of the now-clean skin on his back as Noctis starts to hiss out his name until his voice too shatters. 

Noctis ends up coming first, his body still contorted in front of him as he presses as close against him as his body will allow. Gladio can feel him trembling everywhere and clenching his thighs around him firmly, squeezing him in a way that makes his head spin too fast and his whole body give away right after. His own hips jerk forward roughly, shoving himself down beneath him with sloppy strokes that his fingers can no longer coordinate, and he bites on Noctis' shoulder without thinking, wanting to muffle the deep groan that bubbles at the edge of his throat. He buries it instead in Noctis' skin, twisting the flesh between his teeth just as he wrings every single drop of come from the two of them until they both are ready to collapse right there. The only thing stopping them is Gladio's firm grip around Noctis, holding his now weightless body up as the prince has all but turned into a rag doll after his orgasm. 

"Don't fall asleep on me now," Gladio tells him with a gentle shake, trying to bring him back to lucidity.

Noctis' hands rise to climb along the wall again, using it to brace himself and straighten up a little. When he looks over his shoulder, his expression is significantly more relaxed than before, but there is still a touch of haziness behind his eyes that still worries Gladio. While he's eager to ask him what the hell all that was about, he does want to make sure he's steady and on solid ground first. 

Both his hands carefully work together to maneuver him out of the shower as he absently shuts the water off. He then  guides Noctis onto the bath mat one leg at a time and drapes a towel over his head, ignoring the exhausted look that Noctis shoots him immediately after.

"If you're planning on going back to sleep, don't even think about it. You and I need to talk." 

"There's nothing to talk about." 

Noctis grabs the towel on his head and immediately starts rubbing his hair dry, though he doesn't meet his eyes again at all. It figures he'd start choosing now to retreat and frustrate him, but Gladio's not in the mood right now to be jerked around.

It's why when Noctis reaches for the door knob, Gladio's hand immediately shoots out to slam the bathroom door shut before he moves to stand in front of it, arms crossed. 

"Yes, there is. Now, what the hell was all that about?" 

With nowhere to run, Noctis is left ambling around and stewing in his own uncertainty as his weight shifts from leg to leg. There really is no place he can hide at the moment, and Gladio doesn't plan on letting him out until he starts talking. 

"Just felt like it," he finally replies, though it's hardly a satisfying answer. 

"You know we can't do that anymore. You still have a fiancee waiting for you, and I have to make sure your sorry ass gets to her in one piece." 

Noctis pulls the towel from his head at those words and rubs his fringe irritably out of his eyes. He can tell that he's still a little nerve-wracked at the moment by the quiver in his wrists as they move. Noctis' gaze then climbs back up to meet his, and he settles for a more exasperated tone.

"Would you stand aside?" 

"No." 

That seems to ignite something in Noctis because the next thing he knows, he's throwing a punch in his direction, one that he easily catches in his palm. There's no real weight or force to it, which is a relief. It means Noctis isn't anywhere near enraged. Yet. 

His own fingers tighten around the fist before he pushes back on it, making Noctis take a few steps back before he releases him. 

"Are you going to tell me what you're thinking now?" 

He watches as Noctis' teeth clench together, lips peeled back around them for a moment before his body drops to the toilet lid, sitting over it and burying his head in his hands. 

"I just …needed to clear my head. Get my mind off stuff. The only time I ever stop thinking is when we-" 

His words trail off as his eyes dart towards the shower. It's obvious what he means, and Gladio finds it a little cute that he still struggles to say the word even at his age. 

"I know we're supposed to stop, but sometimes, I just …need that." 

"So stress relief," Gladio concludes, and he can't really blame him for that. 

He'd been pent up himself for weeks and on the verge of finding one of the local EXINERIS power plant girls to blow some steam off with. Maybe it'd been fortunate Noctis had caught him when he did. He might have been able to stop him completely otherwise, though he knows that's the biggest lie he's ever told himself to date. He would have given into him regardless. 

"Something like that. But I won't do it again if you don't want it." 

Those words open a huge can of worms because Gladio had made it clear seconds ago that he did in fact want it even when he knows he shouldn't. He also thinks if Noctis doesn't get his frustrations out of his system, sexual, mental or otherwise, the prince might actually implode at the rate he's going. In a sense, this was good for him, but in another sense, the guilt is there and ever-present because Luna's still waiting to be with the prince. Gladio doesn't want to keep interfering and derailing whatever Noctis' feelings for her are.  

"I didn't say that…," Gladio starts, feeling like he's already digging a grave for himself, "who else would you go to anyway?" 

Noctis' shoulders shrug, and Gladio can see from his angle the swell of the bite mark he'd left there, making some sordid sense of satisfaction gnaw at the back of his mind. 

"Look, maybe until we reach Altissia… if you're feeling that way again, I won't exactly turn you down." 

It's not an invite but not a rejection, either. He'll let Noctis try and interpret that, though he doesn't look inclined to even want to at the moment. There's something all too lost and dejected etched into countenance.

"I'll think about it," Noctis finally murmurs, and he watches the prince start to stand up and grab his clothes off the floor.

Gladio finally lets him through just in time to hear Prompto bounding up to the other side of the door with Ignis in tow. He rushes to get dressed himself so he can help them carry their supplies in, but he has a feeling the other two have already clued into the tension stretched out between Noctis because barely anyone says anything at all until they're back on the road again. 

 

**015.**

 

It's been too easy falling back into old patterns once more and tumbling into some kind of undefined relationship with Gladio, especially as their journey to Altissia keeps getting postponed by circumstance after circumstance. Truthfully, Noctis still doesn't know what he'll do or tell Luna when he arrives, if it's right to still go on with the ceremony or if she'd even want to after being a political prisoner for so many years. The situation is currently complex because Noctis recognizes the symbol of peace and hope that a union between Tenebrae and Lucis would produce, but he's struggled for a while to consider how much of his heart is into the idea. Luna is important to him, undoubtedly so, and he wants her to be safe and by his side. But when he's lying awake at nights with a feverish sensation growing and stretching out all across his surface of his skin, she's never further from his thoughts. 

As a king, his selfish desires should rarely if ever factor into political decisions, but as a man, he's helpless when it comes to his corporeal body. He can't control that part of himself, can only deny and seal it away, but the yearning will still be there, biting right into him, and at nights, he's at his most vulnerable, susceptible to all the thoughts he normally quiets during the day. He'll still want to roll over and reach out for the heavy scent of Gladio's sweat and natural aroma, press right into him and feel the weight of his arms closing all around him, igniting the basest parts of him. It's why he'd been unable to crush the reality of his attraction that night in Lestallum. 

When he'd been at his most terrified, close to death and trying to choke down his anxiety, it was Gladio who had kept him leveled the entire time. His stable, no-nonsense persona grounded him to the point where the fear had dissolved gradually, and he'd reminded him that he can't just surrender. He doesn't have that luxury anymore, but at the same time, the burden isn't his alone to carry. They're all on this journey together, and Gladio intends on being his shield until the very end. That conviction had spurned him through the fire and smog, guiding him forward to hold his sword steady against Titan's crushing blow. Even with his legs shaking underneath him, his grip had never been tighter. 

_'I'm not alone.'_

That's the one thought that kept echoing incessantly through his mind the entire time, and sure enough, to his side had been Gladio's sturdy presence and then Ignis and Prompto had come barreling in to join them, recalling the relief and elation he had at the sounds of their voices. He'd felt impenetrable with them there, enough to finally embrace the power of his ancestors and strike at the Archaean. Afterwards, he'd been left a walking mess, the power still ebbing through him and no way to relieve it. Sleep had only exacerbated the horrible urge to burst right out of his own skin, and nothing less than physical release could quiet the surge of adrenaline still fused right down to his very nerve endings. He'd come so hard that day that he couldn't stop shaking even long after when they were riding away, and he knew Gladio's eyes had been following him closely the entire time, still trying to peel through the layers of armor he had fabricated around himself to hide how scared he is to confront every reality of his current situation.

Since then, Noctis has made it a bad habit to bury his frustration between their bodies, allow Gladio to strip away all the fear and uncertainty right out of him until he can sleep soundly after for days. It had made him feel guilty during the hours between, but whenever he's on top or below him, all his mind can seem to focus on is how unquestionably good it feels to recklessly give in. Yet every once in a while, he stops to wonder if Luna will come to accept this part of him, but those are conversations he abruptly shuffles aside for a later date, things simmering in his mind that he's locked away in favor of dumb impulse at the moment. 

The next few days whirl fast in a mess of hazy rain and ceaseless thunder rolling through the nights until Noctis finally gains the favor of the Fulgarian and regains the car. He never imagined anything would be more comforting than curling in the backseat of it once more, ready to drop dead right there, and it suddenly strikes him why he'd really been tense. He'd been afraid to lose his own connection to his father because when he's in the Regalia, he remembers the way the man smelled when he sat beside him, the comforting hint of cologne he used to wear across his royal raiment, the way his warm fingers used to touch the skin beneath his hair, absently stroking it to lure him into deep sleep. All those memories come rushing back to him as he makes himself at home on the leather interior that still bears the aroma of his childhood no matter how many times it's been washed and fixed up.

That night with the car freshly parked outside of Lestallum again, Noctis finds himself on his knees and in a rare good mood, fingers trapped around the fabric of Gladio's pants as he draws his mouth around his cock. It used to gross him out significantly to do this, but he's more or less lightened up about it over the years to the point where he sort of enjoys the unabashed way Gladio reacts to it, how his hips always fight to keep from lurching forward, the tight curl of his fingers over his hair that threaten to yank the strands out by the roots whenever he does something Gladio particularly likes. He's learned to read his body language better and relax his mouth around him, tongue pushed underneath his cock in an idle cradle as the tip of it shuffles back and forth over the surface of his skin, wetting every part of it. 

Ignis and Prompto had gone on a short errand run, and anticipating their quick return, Noctis doesn't give himself any time for exploration, instead trying to inhale as much of the older man's erection as he can, nose ending up buried almost too close to the thick nest of curls above before pulling away to suck down air. He can feel Gladio's thighs start to press in around his ears, muscles tensing as he grows closer to his release, and Gladio's fingers have combed their way closer to the base of his neck, twisting the hair there tightly while he lets out a shaky groan from above him. 

"I don't know what's gotten into you but not complaining..." 

There's a deep, breathless laugh following that statement that sends a straight shot of unbridled heat crawling up Noctis' own thighs and puddling in between where Noctis' own cock remains too hard and too unsatisfied. He doesn't even bother acknowledging it at the moment as his hand reaches around for what he can of Gladio's ass, fingers pressed to the top of the muscles to yank him closer to the edge of the bed as he drags his erection deeper into his mouth. His own eyes keep flicking upwards, trying to catch sight of Gladio's face, wanting to see him as he unravels quickly, wanting to watch all the pleasure that uncoils across his features and milk every second of it, but he's too impatient and anxious at the moment. Every external sound leaves his own muscles jumping sharply in place, knowing that even if the other two are more than likely highly aware of what's going on between them, he'd rather not make that fact so explicit. 

Instead, he'd rather keep these scarce intimate moments private between them, so he sucks harder around Gladio and tries not to cringe deeply at the wet smack of his lips and cheek vulgarly closing in all around him nor the way his own saliva rolls down his chin as he bobs his head around fast. When he feels Gladio's body start to twitch and jerk all around him as his blunt nails bite into the back of his neck, that's when he knows the older man's close, and he withdraws just enough to let him come in his mouth, feeling the strange texture of his release roll down his throat while Gladio's voice wraps enticingly around out a hoarse sound that does nothing to cool the erratic heat ghosting through his body at the moment. He manages to swallow down his release after without much hesitance before breathing heavily for air as he sinks down to the ground and struggles to get a hold of himself. 

Gladio's soothing touch always follows, fingers moving to comb his fringe back away from his forehead to give him air. The older man's eyes still look attractively glazed over, the color always a rich dark tone that Noctis struggles to look away from.

"So what's with the sudden generosity?  You that happy about getting the car back?

Hit the nail on the head pretty fast on that one, didn't he? Noctis manages to look a little sheepish as his eyes skim the ground, though he's not ready to pull away from the strong hands pleasantly roaming through his hair yet. It'll be a long time before he can get any proper relief for himself, so he indulges in that much.

"Thought you said you weren't complaining." 

"Oh, believe me, I'm not. I just don't see you on your knees often enough not to question it." 

There's another pleasant and low rumble of laughter that Noctis feels rolling through Gladio's body, and his head rises to try and touch his mouth to Gladio's before he's stopped abruptly by Gladio's palm and carefully pushed away.

"No way I'm letting you kiss me after that. Go rinse out your mouth." 

So that's the thanks he gets for swallowing it down? Although, he can see why it'd gross him out. Noctis doesn't exactly want to know what his own release tastes like especially after it's been sitting on someone's spit for a few minutes, but that still doesn't stop him from glaring at Gladio in return. 

"Last time I ever bother," he mutters before wiping his mouth irritably on his sleeve and retreating to the bathroom.

The front door slides open about a minute later as Ignis' eyes scan the room fast before raising an eyebrow at Gladio. The other man just shrugs at him, and Noctis can tell there's a telepathic conversation going on that leaves him feeling further irritable. It's not like he doesn't want to necessarily talk about any of this bluntly, but knowing it's being discussed through facial expressions right in front of him doesn't edge out his embarrassment either. 

Once his mouth is thoroughly clean, the four of them set off again to carry out a few more hunts and take on jobs here and there for money. Their old weapons are practically worn at this point, and they're running low on funds. It makes Noctis long for the old armory back in Insomnia and his personal bank account, but there's also some satisfaction to earning his own keep. Even when he worked part-time in Insomnia, it had always been for charity and meager wages, never enough to really live off of. Roughing it out like this feels like he's actually being an adult, though all the budget work is in Ignis' hands. He thinks if he or Prompto were in charge, they'd end up overspending on music for the car alone. 

The next time they end up back in Lestallum it's to pick up Iris and take her down to Cape Caem, though the night before the trip, Noctis sleeps raggedly and tosses wildly in bed as he sees a vision of himself terrorizing MTs and slaughtering them. Enraged, ballistic, he moves through the crowd while uncontrolled, and even if he knows he shouldn't have any sympathy for them, there is still something gut-wrenching about the predatory way he keeps murdering them all. It doesn't feel like him; his whole body feels like it's someone else - _something_ else. It leaves him clawing at his own skin when he wakes up alone in bed, clothes and sheets drenched with sweat as his breath is pulled out of him in heavy pants that don't seem to want to calm down. 

That whole morning, even with Iris in the car next to him trying to lighten up the mood, he still has trouble discarding the fact that his body doesn't feel like his own. He'd become monstrous for a moment even if he looked nothing like the daemons he'd faced before in the past. He still feels like he could tap into their voraciousness somehow, and his chest is left swelling with the rising anxiousness as the music lightly plays through the radio. 

Iris comments on the scenery between stops and asks them all sorts of inane questions to pass the time. His eyes find Gladio's form at some point, and he's a little endeared to see the sheer fondness he has for her in his eyes, a feeling he could never know himself or replicate. He's never had a sibling at all, though he'd always wondered what it'd be like growing up with one. However, knowing the burden of their bloodline, it's all probably for the better. He wouldn't want anyone else to have to endure this, which makes him wonder what he'll do when it comes times to have heirs. How could he willingly and knowingly bring life into this world while also retaining the knowledge that they'll likely have to suffer at some point? He didn't know how his father even managed it, only remembering the sadness he had carried behind his eyes for years that made it hard for Noctis to ever be around him as he got older and could recognize all the signs of depression coiling through him. 

It must have been hard for him everyday to deal with a lot of the pressures and difficulties that came from the Lucis Caelum line, and Noctis never wanted to begrudge him any of it. But he also wanted to know what it would have been like if they had lived as a normal family, and if he'd been able to see him everyday while growing up, to have been held by him and tucked in to sleep by him more often. There's not a day that goes by that he doesn't remember how it felt to have his father's arms around him, and now, he's only left with scraps of memories to carry him through. 

When they stop to camp by the water, Noctis decides to relax this time by fishing, letting the afternoon peck away at the rest of his thoughts. The other guys set up the camp site nearby and exchange jokes and laughter that the wind picks up and carries towards him. Only Iris bothers to come sit by him at the edge of the pier, carrying some berries Ignis had picked not too long ago. 

"He said he wanted you to try them to see if he can make a dessert out of them." 

Fruits are always a mixed bag with him, only liking the tart and sour ones, but he's not one to protest berries really. He absently puts a handful in his mouth before nodding.

"Thanks. Not bad." 

Not his favorite, but they'll do in a pinch. He's sure Ignis can whip them into something tastier. Iris picks at the remainders while watching his line sit idle in the water.

"How does that not get boring for you? I think if I sat around so long without a bite, it'd drive me crazy. Or I'd fall asleep."

He's close to it himself, to be honest. Why aren't the fish biting today? Must be all the rain from Ramuh. It had changed the lakes' depth considerably and also made the temperature cooler all around. Fish are less likely to be active around strange environmental changes. 

"They're just biding their time. You see- I'll catch dinner for all five us. Any second now." 

_Aaaaaaany second now._ He keeps repeating that to himself until the sun starts to dip below the horizon. There won't be much time to fish with the daemons are on the prowl, but he's stubborn if anything. Iris does indeed pass out next to him, her head resting heavily on his shoulder as she drools gently on his t-shirt. He doesn't know why she stuck it out so long if she's tired, but Noctis doesn't exactly mind the quiet companionship. He remembers how Gladio had regarded her in the car and sort of feels that same level of concern for her. With everything that happened to her father and her own home, she's taking it a lot better than he thought she would have -far better than himself, that's for certain. He wishes he could borrow some of that positive energy for himself as he struggles to amble through all the feelings and stress that start to pile on him too fast with each passing day. 

By the time Gladio comes to fetch them for sleep, Noctis' arm is hurting from holding up his rod, and there's a sizable drool stain on his sleeve.

"Nothing at all huh? She was hoping to be your good luck charm." 

Noctis rolls his eyes at that. Fishing is all about skill not luck. Okay, it's a little about luck, but he doesn't blame her for no bites at all. 

"You can't stay out here all night, hoping to catch the big one. Come on." 

Gladio's arms move under Iris, easily picking her up before he nudges him with the tip of his shoe. Noctis takes that as his cue to finally move, and he starts to pack up his fishing equipment. There's already food waiting back for them at camp, the smell wafting pleasantly from the grill while they curl up around the warm fire. Prompto drags him down to sit next to him while showing him all the pictures he took that day, most of them of Iris but a few of Gladio's doting. It's tempting to ask Prompto if he can save some of those just because he likes the unguarded expression he wears around her, the naked fondness that he would never show him or anyone else, but he resists. Instead, he teases Prompto about one where he accidentally took a picture of his own butt.

"Not my fault! I didn't look before sitting down!" he defends.

"That is totally your fault. You should always look before sitting." 

Prompto's elbow digs into his side before he holds up another one of just the two of them. For once, the blond isn't squinting comically at the camera and actually looks rather human. 

"Not bad," he compliments him. 

"I know! My selfie game's improved since we started. I'm going to be a selfie pro pretty soon." 

An accolade only Prompto would feel proud of. They shuffle through the rest of the images before Gladio makes sure Iris is all tucked in and comfortable in the tent. As per their prior agreement, he's going to split it alone with his sister for the night while the three of them will be sleeping outside, though Noctis can't say he's looking forward to it. It still worries him that he might wake up and find a daemon breathing savagely onto his face, but Prompto's at least a few feet away and works better than any watch dog. Every time there is the slightest shuffle or leaf rustling, he shoots up straight in his sleeping bag, eyes bulging out of his head, and starts maniacally looking around and repeatedly asking _'What's that?'_

By the tenth or so time, even Ignis starts to get impatient with him and threatens to sneak sleeping aides into his dinner.

"Okay, okay. I get it," Prompto grumbles, though he shifts closer, the sleeping bag rustling along the ground as he presses into Noctis' side, "don't freak out. It's just hard to sleep without the big guy around. Well, guess, you'd probably know that better than most." 

That's one strike for keeping him awake, a second for crowding in close to him and making him feel extra sticky and sweaty in his sleeping bag, and a third for teasing him about Gladio. He tries to kick him through the side sleeping bag while Prompto breaks out into quiet peels of laughter.

"Just kidding, just kidding! Ow- Noct!" 

A stern look from Ignis quiets them both down fast, and Noctis tries to zip himself in to silence the noise, only he can't quite breathe as much in there. By morning, all three of them are dead on their feet while Gladio stretches out with a satisfied grin on his face as he emerges from the tent with Iris. 

"Best sleep I've had in a while." 

Noctis' only response to that is an unpleasant glare. He could kill him right now, but he tries to ease up with Caem on the way and practically in view. They'll have some time to relax there while Cid prepares the boat to take them to Altissia. It's their one reprieve as they cram themselves back into the car.


	4. Chapter 4

**016.**

 

Gladio takes off. Just like that. No real explanation nor any indication of where he's going, and Noctis tries not to look _that_ upset about it. He's more deeply annoyed than legitimately angry if only because Gladio's the one always harping on him about being honest and straightforward while avoiding giving him a direct answer about where he's going and why. The whole situation bugs him to the core, and he tries not to dwell on it because he's allowed to take care of his own business if he needs to. Noctis has never really held him to his position and wouldn't exactly hate him if he did choose to abandon them permanently and make his own path.

But he probably wouldn't take it all that well either, if he's honest with himself. He and Ignis have been a stable presence in his life since he was a kid, and even Prompto has gradually come to feel like a core part of himself. Losing any of them would leave him feeling depressed or something even far worse. It's a struggle to pretend that fact doesn't follow him like into his waking nightmares, leaving him unsettled because the ride is already a lot quieter without him. Ignis doesn't say much, and Prompto spends the journey curled up in his seat, taking a long nap. Noctis is left grabbing the book Gladio left behind from under the seat in front of him, thumbing through it and trying to make out some of the words. It all feels like it might as well be some foreign language to him, never having pegged Gladio as being deeply philosophical. He'd known he had a lot of history books shelved in his bedroom, but this is more along the lines of nature and the power of inner strength or something like that. 

It sort of reads like one of those self-help books that would be sold in a gas station except with way fancier words and a cover that makes it seem more tonally grave and serious. What does that guy even see in these? Though, his hands pause on one marked page in the center, finding something tucked inside. Immediately catering to his curiosity, he turns the pages to check what it is before finding a picture there of Gladio, his father, and Iris when they were all young. It must have been one of Iris' birthday parties because there's a cake there in front of them, and she's leaning over to blow it out. 

Staring at it does leave him with a strange sense of longing because he had barely spent any birthdays with his own father. Ignis had sometimes baked him a small cake and put in a candle for him that he always half-heartedly blew out to the applause of the servants all around. Maybe that's why Gladio had dragged him out that one year, knowing he so rarely got a chance to do anything special for them. He still remembers how awkwardly they'd kissed one another then and him fumbling over the words that he still can't tell him even now. It's not enough that he likes him and that he's attracted him, but his mind drags itself through all these 'what-if' scenarios if they were actually allowed to date like normal guys their age, if they'd be able to stand together in public without it being for official reasons, if he could just go to a movie or eat out with him -live normally for once. He's thought about it a lot of times and finds he doesn't hate the idea, maybe even yearns for it more than he'd care to admit because he does want that deep connection that always feels just out of reach. 

Again, his mind skitters back to Luna, wondering if it'd be the same with her. If he would feel a full-bodied heart throb when they kiss or when their hands brush, if he wouldn't be able to stave off the lingering flush of heat every time they hug, if looking straight into her eyes would leave his throat and mouth just as dry. 

He doesn't know. He doesn't know at all. Maybe seeing her might trigger something inside or ...who knows? It's difficult to compare them at all because Luna is gentle and kind while Gladio is blunt and straightforward. And right now, they're both far apart from him, leaving his mind to fumble with itself as he tries to sort out what he's even doing anymore. His own inner turmoil always intensifies when there's nothing around to distract him except a book that tells him nothing about how Gladio himself feels. Only that he misses family.

Which Noctis can relate to. He misses his dad a lot, too. Not a day has passed by since he's stopped thinking about him and replaying their last few moments together as though he could somehow throw himself back in time and give him a proper goodbye. If he'd known then that that would have been the last time they'd ever speak to one another, he would have said so much more. Likewise, he doesn't know when the last time will be that he'll see his friends, and he doesn't want his last words to them to be some petty sniping because he can't get it together enough to actually articulate all the jumbled up thoughts in his head. There's a chaotic woodblock tower teetering on a lone cylinder at the edge of his mind, ready to tip over at any time, and it's only just a matter of time. Once that happens, he'll have to figure out how to deal with the consequences. For now, he pushes Gladio's book back underneath the seat again with the photo tucked inside and tries to nap the rest of the way to Steyliff Grove. 

Their journey beneath the surface goes about as well as either of them can predict with Prompto exchanging conversation with the mercenary, Aranea, and Ignis compensating for everything that comes out of his mouth by being polite. It bugs Noctis that Ardyn is helping them out again, still unsure what his angle is at this point, but turning him down will only delay their progress to Altissia even further. He's not in any position to really be picky here, though he feels the way the chancellor's eyes always follow him, an ardent stare that peels back layers like he's trying to size him up every chance he gets. It's a dagger digging under his skin constantly, and he has to fight not to anxiously scratch at the flesh of his forearms when they do talk because he knows without words that Ardyn is already thinking he's so much weaker than his father. 

Aranea's own words about the empire confirm his suspicions that something is amiss, that they've started playing a little too recklessly with science. The fact that the MTs are being made from daemons unsettles him the most, bringing him back to faded memories of their glowing crimson stare boring through him every time they'd try and latch onto him to attack. Each time, Noctis had felt the same abject fear coiling through them, the underlying instinct nagging him that they were more than just mindless drones and machines. It's difficult not to let the nightmares roll through him each night after fighting them, especially when he'd been slaughtering them in droves, mindlessly cutting away at them like he'd become the worst daemon out of all of them. The potential is always there with the quiet rage that sometimes bubbles up when he imagines his father's broken and bloodied body on the throne, the dead-eyed stare that will never reflect warmth or kindness again. 

Harnessing those feelings is an ongoing challenge because he doesn't want to remain docile when he's out for blood, but he also knows if he goes up against an entire empire alone, he'll never win. He has to keep moving forward steadily, building up his power until he can prove to be an actual threat. In the meantime, he weaves through the grove to find the mythril ore and lets Aranea airlift them back to Lestallum. During the trip back, she continues to watch him with her own scrutinizing stare while Prompto attempts to strike conversation again.

"So I bet all that spearing works up a big appetite. Must be starving by now, huh? How about you join us for dinner when we land?" 

Not the smoothest opening one-liner, and Noctis tries not to cringe as he rests next to him. 

"Are you boys really planning on buying me and my entire aerial unit dinner?" she replies with a smile, "My, how sweet of you." 

"We don't have the funds for that," Ignis intones, shooting Prompto an unpleasant stare.

"I didn't think she'd bring her whole unit," Prompto whispers back.

At least, the exchange manages to diffuse some of the tension wracking his body at the moment, and Noctis smiles in spite of himself. 

"What did you really think would happen?" he asks Prompto.

The blond just gives him a hapless shrug before trying to weasel his way out of the grave he'd dug for himself.

"It's not that we don't want to take out the whole unit. It's just that-"

"You can't," Aranea finishes before stepping up close to Prompto, her heels clicking loudly and resolutely across the transport. She then extends a lone finger, pressing it beneath Prompto's chin as she abruptly forces him to look directly at her. A blush quickly extends over his freckled cheeks while his body remains frozen and impaired, and Noctis swallows the laugh that wants to bubble out. "Do give me a call when you can afford it. My men work hard. They deserve a good time for their efforts." 

She smiles and releases Prompto before idly stretching her arms out, and Prompto continues on as a frozen visage of himself, mouth hanging open while he fights to say something that isn't indiscernible wheezing. He eventually settles on nodding rapidly and then a hopeful, "So that means you'll give me your number?" 

"No need to trouble her," Ignis chimes in much to his and Prompto's shock,"I can give it to you." 

At what point did they exchange... on second thought, Noctis doesn't really want to know. He'll let those two work it out while Prompto sputters at him and Ignis remains unfazed.

It's evening by the time they land in Lestallum to the grievous reports that the plant is covered in unwelcomed visitors. Apparently a daemon infestation has broken out inside, and they're trying to mess with the valves inside and cause all sort of chaos. It's also Noctis who ends up being given the task to clear them out, one he barely bats an eye at because he hasn't gone a single day yet since he left Insomnia without an impromptu daemon hunt. It'd be more surprising if he didn't have to go abruptly kill a few before bed. He just wishes he had something a little cooler to go slaying them in as he drags the thermal suit on over his clothes. Since the fabric is unbearably hot and heavy he has to strip down to just his t-shirt and pants, tempted to lose all the clothes completely if he weren't certain someone else had worn this thermal suit before him. The smell definitely indicates as much as he struggles to arrange it all on his body before plunking the helmet down.

Through the thick orange-tinted visor, he can barely see anything at all, and the voices around him are faint, though he can pick up Prompto giving him a thumbs up.

"Looking sharp, man. How's it feel?" 

"Like wearing a trash can," Noctis admits.

There's a flash that indicates Prompto had probably taken a photo to preserve this moment of humiliation for him. If he had the energy to complain he would, but right now, he wants to tear through some daemons then get a good night's sleep. Another flash clicks, and he can hear the plant employee -Holly- telling him he'll be joined by another hunter. Just great. Now on top of worrying about himself, he has to look after another hunter, assuming they don't know what they're doing. Even the best of hunters have been getting knocked out pretty quickly by the more aggressive batch of daemons that keep cropping up, so he'll have to be extra vigilant. 

After making sure the helmet is secure over himself, he watches through the thick glass to find the other hunter, instantly having to crane his head up as the guy(?) towers next to him. Come to think of it, everything from his bulk to his gait rams into him with a strange sense of familiarity, though the helmet distorts the sound of his voice as they idly chat with one another. It isn't until the hunter summons his sword that it finally hits him who his partner is, and he finds himself grinning in spite of himself under his helmet and feeling thankful that his expression is obscured at the moment. It's rare of him to have unguarded reaction like that around anyone, but he'd really been worried about Gladio when he'd taken off like that. As much as the older man had assured him he'd be back, he'd almost feared that Gladio had no interest in following him any longer.

It's an unfounded worry because Gladio has never been anything else but loyal to the Lucis Caelum line and would pledge himself to the very end if it came down to it. The Amicitia aren't traitors to the crown nor are they cowards.

But even with the mental reassurances, it still feels like everything between them is tentative, standing on fractured ground and close to losing the foundation below them. Noctis isn't prepared for that kind of rude awakening, so he unconsciously clings to the warm banter between them, reveling in how good it feels to fight side by side once more. His own body moves with natural synergy even with just the two of them, able to predict each other's next steps effectively and push back the daemons until they have them cowering in a corner. A polearm manifests in Noctis' hands, and he waits for Gladio to barrel into them with unmitigated force, acting as his vanguard before he strikes down from above. 

One by one, Noctis pierces through them, glad the helmet stops him from smelling the acrid stench of their blood as they disintegrate. He also relies on Gladio to watch his back as reinforcements come, deflecting them easily with his shield and buying Noctis time to warp around to the other side and eliminate the remaining daemons. It's nothing for them to break a sweat over except for the fact that it's close to a million degrees inside, and Noctis is, in fact, sweating bullets under his suit. The urge for water and fresh air is strong, though he and Gladio do a final check to make sure they've exterminated everything that's left before meeting by the entrance.

Before he can reach the elevator, Gladio's hand immediately grabs a hold of his arm to yank him forward, and he can see the faint outline of his face through the glass when their visors bump together. His own eyes lose focus trying to find Gladio's through the orange haze, and he wishes he could feel his breath touching his own mouth right now, definitely sensing the weight of their distance from all the fabric and equipment still separating them at the moment. A primitive part of himself just wants to embrace him and bury his nose in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent that's permanently clinging to the surface of his skin, maybe even touch his lips to it and feel his pulse throbbing right against the chapped surface. 

"Did you miss me?" he finally asks.

"Oh yeah," Noctis replies, unable to stop the sarcasm from oozing out, "I was completely devastated having all that room in the car and tent for once," 

Those words earn him a playful shove before Gladio's gloved hands redirect themselves to his helmet, and he tugs the glass up towards him, kissing him through it. It's such a cheesy gesture that Noctis finds it in himself to show pity for the guy as he rises up to meet him in return by pressing his lips against the glass. He's never been more grateful the two of them are alone because there's no way Prompto would ever let him live it down.

"You're a pain in the ass as usual," Gladio tells him after, "but it's nice seeing you again after all that time." 

Probably the most sentimental thing he's said to him in a while, and Noctis can't stop his heart from lurching forward in his chest at the admission while his own gloved hands cradle Gladio's as they continue to rest around his helmet. Right now, he really wants nothing more than to crush his body to his own, the desire more fervent than it had been before, and the two of them race out of the plant with unspoken desperation lingering between them, hoping no one will stop them along the way. The moment they reach outside, they end up stumbling towards a small alleyway just around the corner from the plant and start wrestling to get each other's helmets off at lightning speed. 

Noctis' fingers fumble all over the place with his gloves, struggling to find some dexterity as he pushes the helmet up and off Gladio's face. His own goes flying off seconds later, absently hearing them both crash noisily to the ground before their lips blindly find one another. There's no time to think at all, sucked into the moment with magnetic force as he bruises his mouth with Gladio's, and he stumbles backwards until he hits the wall, doesn't even protest when Gladio's arms hook under his body to carry him. His back scrapes harshly across the wall, pressed into it tightly while his hands only know hunger, tugging feverishly at the layers still sitting between them, trying to pull and tear the thick fabric away from Gladio's upper torso.

Beads of sweat quickly roll down his cheek, struggling to gasp for air between the way their lips keep crushing together, violently biting and sliding over one another, the wetness of Gladio's saliva coating his chin while his breath creeps along his bottom lip. Noctis can't help but exhale loudly, throwing one glove to the ground carelessly then pushing his now bared hand between them to start yanking the zipper down on Gladio's thermal suit. At this point, he doesn't care if he tears it off, just wanting to feel his skin against him, longing for it with a rabid sense of need that leaves his hips bucking from the wall and threatening to undo Gladio's tight grip on him. 

Each time, Gladio's lips still find his, chasing him so he can push his teeth into his bottom lip, making fresh pain bloom beneath sucking the swollen skin until its red and blotched everywhere. Gladio's teeth then scrape down to his jaw, biting and peppering the skin with kisses while he grinds his hips straight into his groin, and it's so hard to feel anything between all the layers. There's a certain numb frustration to it that has Noctis clamoring wildly for more, trying to stubbornly move against Gladio until he feels the satisfying give of the zipper. 

Unfortunately, he doesn't get to savor the victory long as he hears someone quietly clear their throat just a few feet away. The sound makes all the nerves in his body jump at once, and he jolts back this time to get away from Gladio while trying to cure his own sudden light-headedness by panting a little too fast. It doesn't help that he's absolutely sweltering inside the suit and that Gladio looks almost too punishingly good when he's covered in sweat and grime. 

He finally gathers enough of his wits to glance at their audience, feeling humiliation swell warmly around his cheeks before he rapidly disentangles himself the rest of the way from Gladio and turns away from Ignis' scrutinizing stare.

"Need I remind you two those are rentals," he informs them calmly, seemingly unfazed.

Prompto is standing next to him, though Ignis has his palm securely covering his eyes while the blond tries to pry his fingers apart to see.

"Come on! Let me look!" 

Gladio has an easier time shaking off the embarrassment, just snorting quietly before rescuing the two helmets off the ground. "Nice to see the two of you again, too." 

Ignis manages to look somewhat amused in return and waits until they're 'decent' to release Prompto. 

"I assume we'll be sleeping in separate hotel rooms for the night. We've amassed enough funds for it, so it shouldn't be too troubling to cover the expense." 

While Noctis knows he should protest, the idea of all that bed space does sound appealing. The four of them hadn't exactly been splurging much since they started on this roadtrip except for that one night in Galdin Quay. It would be nice to get that kind of privacy for a little bit -at least before they set out for Altissia and he's left to chart unknown emotional territory once more. Might as well have a night free of complications. 

"Sure," Noctis finally concedes, his fingers already reaching to brush along the back of his neck as Prompto gives him a look like he knows _exactly_ what they plan on doing tonight. He can at least stand to be a little more discreet sometimes and spare him the usual embarrassment. 

He and Gladio remove the thermal suits more calmly after, though not without Prompto commenting on the fresh new collection of scars all over Gladio's body. That makes Noctis stop dead in his tracks, eyes skimming fast over the most prominent ones -a deep line across his forehead and one decorating his chest. There are other fainter ones on his arms everywhere, so many that Noctis kicks himself for being too distracted to notice before. Maybe that's why Gladio had pinned him down the first chance he got. He hadn't wanted him asking questions or worrying over him. 

What exactly had he been hunting out there one his own? Why didn't he ask for their help? Did he think the four of them couldn't handle it together? At the very least, Ignis could have healed him and he could have played decoy or _something._ Anything had to have been better than Gladio getting sliced up as he had. What if he really had been killed then? No honorary goodbyes or meaningful last words exchanged. He would have just been gone like a candle's ember stolen by the wind. Only a dark wick would stand in its place, and once again, Noctis would have lost someone else without anything even close to resembling closure. 

The thought leaves him harrowed as he follows Gladio up the stairs, growing silent himself while the thoughts tumble one over the other in his head. His stomach keeps trying to creep its way upwards in dread, and he barely even manages a quiet goodnight to Prompto and Ignis as they go into their own room. 

Both he and Gladio end up grabbing the master suite for themselves, a large king-sized bed lying in the center that Noctis would have loved to throw himself on at any other point in time. Instead, he just stares at it and watches Gladio sit at the edge. Under the vintage lamps, he can see the scars more prominently than before, quickly counting the ones on his arms before wondering how many more there are that he can't see. While he's curious to find out, the dread won't stop gnawing insistently at the back of his mind.

"We finally get a night of privacy since we started this whole trip, and you're hiding by the door." 

Gladio's eyes rake over his features, probably already picking up his discomfort. He really does want to take advantage of the privacy if only because he doesn't know when and if he'll get another chance like this, but his own legs aren't budging right now. 

"Why not snag the shower first? Don't think you've stopped to bathe at all since before we went our separate ways." 

Noctis nods quietly at that and moves to take off his shirt, fingers lingering at the hem before suddenly retreating into the bathroom first. He knows he's acting strangely but can't quite quell the unsettling pounding sensation from his chest which should be from excitement. Instead, it's fear creeping right through him, all the worries he'd buried so deep now being realized to the point where he can't focus on anything else. If he loses any of his friends -if he loses _all of them_ \- what more does he have left? His kingdom was crushed to ash, his father laid to rest by the empire, his fiancee far away and emotionally out of reach. What can he do to protect them? 

The words keep whispering through his mind as he strips down rapidly and climbs in the shower. The hot water pelting him feels refreshingly blissful, and he tries to let some of those thoughts slip down the drain with the muddied water, wanting to enjoy this night -wanting to forget everything else the way Gladio's body always makes him. That complete surrender is what he always finds himself craving when he's too addled and frustrated to do much else, wanting to be so driven and overwhelmed by the physical pleasure that there's no time for other thoughts to slither through his head. If only he could be more forthright about that request, especially when his skin still feels unnaturally frigid under the warm water, and his whole body doesn't seem to want to calm down.

The steam buries him for a few moments and stains the bathroom mirrors, though Noctis can see his own eyes peaking through, swearing sometimes they're just as yellow and unnatural as they are in his nightmares. What if he ends up being the thing his friends have to be protected from? It's a thought that's followed him around for a while, knowing the great power he wields and the potential to slaughter dozens. How many broken MTs had he clutched in those dreams, always those eerie glowing eyes trained on him accusingly. The wires spill out of the broken joints like worms crawling out of mangled corpses, and he wakes up in the morning with fresh bile rubbing at his throat.

He can feel it now as he climbs out of the shower and wraps a towel around his waist, trying to remember if he brought any spare clothes with him. He faintly recalls Gladio carrying a bag around with him from the car, so he steps out and moves towards it while a cloud of steam trails after him. His skin is still raw and red in places, and he knows Gladio's watching him vigilantly, taking note of every move with a scrutiny that makes him want to shrink back into the bathroom. 

"Feeling better?" he asks quietly -almost carefully. 

"Yeah. Just a little worn out. Those daemons in the plant took a lot out of me." 

It's obviously a lie that he doesn't expect Gladio to fall for, and he's mentally braced for impact when Gladio rises from his reclined spot on the bed and crosses the distance between them to slide gentle fingers around his forearm. He tugs him towards the edge of the bed before he can grab any clothes and easily pushes him down one-handed, forcing him to lie back and stare at the ceiling -leaving Noctis feeling uncomfortably exposed with just a towel on. 

As soon as Noctis aims to sit up, Gladio's hands move lightning-quick, darting out to grab his wrists and pin them down on either side of his head. He's left with his body half-hanging on the bed while Gladio is partially standing and partially bent over him, a wall of heat crushing down on him that makes it difficult to breathe let alone even think about breathing. 

"How many times do I have to tell you you're a shitty liar?" 

"How many times are you going to remind me I'm a shitty liar?" Noctis shoots back, trying his best to look unperturbed by the new position. 

It's a losing battle obviously when even the slightest shift leaves his towel crawling from his waist, and the cloth of Gladio's pants are rubbing a little too distractedly against the insides of his thighs. No matter how stressed out he felt just moments ago, his body is responding to the contact with obsessive interest, nerves already pushed to the surface of his skin where they ache to be further ignited. 

Realizing how quickly he's reacting to him, Gladio's lower body pushes inwards even tighter, brushing heavily over his groin as his mouth hovers too close to his own. He can feel the ghost-like touch of his breath crawling over his lips, making them part and quiver further. His nose drags next to his own when he moves his face in closer, bumping against it lightly before pressing it to his cheek and inhaling the clean scent now clinging to his flesh. Even though he knows he just took a shower, he can't help feel a little self-conscious, hoping that the dirt and grime had all been scrubbed off completely earlier. 

"Are you still worried about what happened while I was gone?" Gladio whispers, breath still tickling him from the close proximity. 

Is he that transparent? Maybe he'd been eying the scars a little more obviously than he should have but hadn't been able to resist looking at them when there were so many incised into his skin no matter where his gaze lies. Even now, looking at his neck, there's a faint one stretched out over his collarbone, and the large one now decorating his chest is the most troubling. It's deeper than even the scar that had marred his face for two years now, so close to his heart that it could have easily bled out Gladio's life from him if he hadn't been more careful.

Human shield he may claim to be, but he's not indestructible, and that's never been more apparent to him than it is now. It's bad enough his heart had stopped entirely when they confronted Ravus and when Gladio had been flung to the car like he was made of down feathers instead of hard muscle. There are things out there that even Noctis can't compete with. What chance does Gladio have alone? 

"Why did you go off on your own?" he finally asks, eyes finding Gladio's resolutely through the dim light. He doesn't want to have the matter brushed off again, demanding an answer with his own expression.

"Just had something to take care of. Something _personal._ In spite of what you may think, not every second of my life revolves around you." 

While Noctis wants to object to that, he knows if he does, he'd be slotting them into the restricted roles he's always hated. King and shield. He's never been that way with Gladio and doesn't want to be, preferring Gladio to keep his own free will and to follow him of his own accord. As much as the older man continues to claim he's duty and honor-bound, Noctis knows it's always gone a lot deeper than that. To enforce rank on him would be take a thousand steps backwards as far as their relationship is concerned, and he does want to trust him. 

He just wishes that he could have asked him to help with whatever it is. That's all. Noctis would have gone with him if he had just asked. 

"So it's fine if you keep things from me, but I can't from you."

Gladio's breath comes out in a quiet snort as his hand suddenly draws down the center of his chest, his warm, callused palm tracing over the lines of his pectoral muscles and caressing further down over his stomach until they linger over the towel. It's obvious he's either trying to distract him or diffuse his bad mood through intimacy, and Noctis is a little upset at himself for easily getting worked up by him instead of holding the conversation he wants to have, his pulse answering with a vibrant quiver as he sucks in a breath.

"There's not much to tell. Went hunting. Took down the other guy. Lived to see you another day. The reason I went alone is because you had business to take care of, in case you forgot." 

He flicks Noctis abruptly between the eyes, making him blink a few times. 

"You don't need any more distractions. We got to get that boat going and get you to Altissia."

Noctis knows that, but this isn't exactly a casual errand that could easily be brushed aside, and it's a bit infuriating that Gladio can't see it from his point of view. At the same time, he sort of does understand that it would have been quicker and more efficient to split up as they had, but they could have found some way to do both together, 

"I'll tell you what," Gladio says more softly, and this time his hand grips the towel around his waist to start unfastening it, "I'll make it up to you right now."

"How?" Noctis finds himself asking, upper body rising on his elbows as he tries not to tense up at the promise behind those words. 

Gladio's reply is a fleeting kiss to his mouth before grinning at him enigmatically. "Making sure you get a good night's sleep tonight." 

He then pulls away completely from his body, leaving Noctis feeling a little over-exposed once more as the cold night air wafts across his skin and reminds him he's still slightly damp from the shower and also wearing significantly less clothes than Gladio at the moment. He does't like to give that guy that much of an upper hand in these situations, but he is curious at the promise laden in his words. 

When Gladio returns, there's a brand new bottle of lube in his hands and a fresh pack of condoms, both casually tossed next to Noctis' body, making it a little more apparent what he has in mind. Noctis had already guessed long ago that this is where tonight was heading, and he honestly can't remember when they'd gone that far in a long time -probably since before they left on this trip. Being on the road hadn't exactly given them much privacy, and it's also a little difficult to pick up those essentials at any corner store, let alone finding a place to store it in the Regalia that wouldn't draw raised eyebrows from the other two. What few moments they'd gotten away with had been fleeting and quick and had left them both still tense, thrumming, and unsatisfied long after. 

"Just stay relaxed like that," Gladio tells him before drawing his thighs apart so his body can slide in between, both hands squeezing their way under his torso to force his chest up higher to his mouth. 

Lips move down haphazardly along his sternum, kissing over stray water drops lingering on his flesh before brushing them along the outlines of lean muscle and tracing over the indents in between with the tip of his tongue. Noctis can hear his own voice being wrung out of him with each movement, body arching uncomfortably to accommodate the position as he cradles Gladio's hips within his legs. 

Gladio's unwavering stare above him swallows him in too harshly, watching him follow over the length of his body until Noctis wants to drag the sheet over himself except his hands are too busy pushing into Gladio's shoulders, blunt nails twisting into his muscles. His own breaths continue to escalate in volume, the sound harried and desperate as Gladio's slides even lower down his body, dragging its way to his navel where his tongue dips in, and Noctis shudders around the tip of it and bucks his hips upwards, silently asking for so much more already. 

Gladio's grip keeps his hips trapped, pinning him back to the bed as he continues to draw his lips downwards, playfully biting the edge of his pelvic bone before parting his thighs wider so his head can slip in between. When Noctis looks down, he spies the crown of his head hovering between his thighs and feels the gentle fall of hair that tickles his skin everywhere and makes his lower body shiver within the firm grasp. Both his own hands immediately reach down to grip the wayward strands, digging his fingers into it and tugging it as he struggles to try and control his reactions, but he's spiraling too fast out of control as Gladio's tongue unfurls across his erection, the wet heat of it spreading across the head and smearing around it slowly in a way that leaves his thoughts scattering all over the place.

He's too caught off guard to shield himself from the onslaught emotionally, his groans growing hoarse and ragged as he reaches for the pillow underneath himself with one hand and immediately drags it to his face. 

" _Shit_ ," he hisses, muffling the word with the fabric while Gladio chuckles at him.

"You know, it's not fun for me if I can't see your face at all." 

"I don't care," Noctis replies, keeping the pillow there to try and keep himself from becoming more unhinged than he already feels with his nerves jumping rabidly under his skin and his body eager to be cradled against his tongue, to be rubbed, licked, and swallowed down by him. 

The mental image alone leaves him hardening too fast against Gladio's lips, and he tries to pretend that the way his stubble brushes across his thighs doesn't make him want to turn into a shuddering, throbbing mess as the older man flattens his tongue underneath his cock and slowly licks from base to tip. It's gentle and agonizing yet drawn out so perfectly that Noctis curses again and almost clamps his legs around Gladio's head to force him away before he comes too soon.

He can already feel himself careening towards his limit, hovering on the edge of wanting to scream and unravel himself beneath him -leaving nothing left but a puddling mass of euphoria after. But Gladio knows when to pull away, only doing enough to keep him rattled and shaking but not enough to push him like Noctis wants to be pushed right now. 

It figures he'd be too good at this since everything Gladio does comes with natural ease, and unlike his clumsy attempts, the other man is confident and amorous, tongue unabashed where it licks and strokes him, moving to suck him lightly around the balls and make Noctis nearly tear the pillow over himself into two pieces. He keeps mouthing out groans into the fabric and trying to swallow down whatever doesn't spring loose from his throat as a dangerous combination of pressure and heat starts too build too fast along his cock, leaving him feeling like he'll burst any second now. 

"Gladio, _hold on!_ " he finally breathes out, and he abandons the pillow to shove the older man away from his cock for a few seconds, more annoyed at himself for being so deeply overwhelmed by the onslaught than he is at Gladio for being so good at it. 

For a moment, Gladio regards him with concern as he idly rubs the outsides of his thighs to calm him down. "Too much, too fast? Should I take that as a compliment?" 

He takes that back. He's definitely annoyed at Gladio and the shit-eating grin he's giving him at the moment.

"Tell me when you want to continue." 

It's a struggle to try and recollect his brain cells after every single one of them had been short-circuited for the past five minutes or so. Noctis tries to breathe to calm down, though he's still painfully hard and tense and doesn't even know why he really made Gladio stop except that he'd been terrified he would actually cry out something dumb with their two closest friends next door. He doesn't like losing his composure that fast, let alone in front of Gladio's perfectly calm and easy-going demeanor. 

"Can't believe you held that out on me all these years," Noctis says instead.

"Only because I wanted you to ask for it," Gladio teases him in return.

Well, if he'd known it would have been that easy… he probably still wouldn't have actually asked. That's an awkward request to make of someone, regardless of how long they'd known one another and had been together, and he also gets the underlying feeling sometimes that Gladio really doesn't like the thought of doing it any more than Noctis does. 

"And what if I start asking for it every morning and every night before bed?"

A light slap to his thigh makes him jump and laugh a little. "Don't kid yourself," Gladio says with a rich chuckle that sends a fervent tingle crawling up the length of Noctis' spine. 

He'll never get tired of hearing his voice when it's thick and heavy with raw need, reminding him just how much he'd wanted to come earlier. His own fingers reach out for the lube as he tosses it towards Gladio and tries to relax and mentally prepare himself. 

"Fine, at least finish things up here. I'm ready." 

That's all Gladio ever needs to hear as he twists the cap off quickly with his teeth and lets the fluid drizzle onto his fingers. The first one is always the toughest to take, feeling it wriggle and push in too fast, but Gladio's mouth trails along the underside of his cock to distract him, forcing his muscles to loosen and let the entirety of his finger slip in. All Noctis can focus on is the damp feeling of his lips and tongue cradling too sensitive flesh, massaging over it in a way that starts to uncoil all the tension from him quickly again and leave Noctis raising his hips of their own volition, trying to goad Gladio into moving quicker. A second finger pushes right into him, slick and warm where it thrusts in with the other one and presses into his inner muscles. While they used to be directionless years before, now they know exactly where to curl up and apply pressure, making Noctis shudder and clench his teeth as his body twists to the side with too much force. His own hands are desperate for an anchor as they first reach up to grip the headboard tightly before pawing at the pillow beneath him and lastly at the sheets. 

He's so out of sorts with himself, shattering apart into loose pieces of himself that Gladio keeps tearing through further as his fingers slide in even deeper just as his mouth wraps around the head of his cock and descends, engulfing too much of him inside. The onslaught of sensation threatens to drive him to the brink again, upper body contorting to the other side as he grunts and presses his teeth tighter together like he can somehow stop the overflow of stimulation coursing through him when his body keeps screaming at him to let go already -to stop holding back and to surrender. However, he's stubbornly refusing to come that fast, especially before Gladio's had any chance to be pleasured in return. 

When Gladio's mouth starts wetly and noisily sucking around him, that's when Noctis snaps again, head pushed back and lips breaking apart to gasp as he thrusts himself down his fingers, desperate to have him deeper -desperate to take all of him inside and let it finish him off completely. He can't wait anymore, and the desperation is leaving him threadbare and shaking, unable to recompose himself in the wake of so many urgencies dominating him at the moment. 

"I want-... with you-" he manages to get out, voice a hoarse croak around his heavy breaths while his hands start to force Gladio's head away from him. 

He tries to ignore the embers burning behind Gladio's eyes, tries to ignore the swollen color of his mouth and the way Gladio's whole body feels lit up at his touch, the heated surface that makes him want him inside of him _fast._

"I got you," Gladio reassures him as he removes his fingers carefully. 

Noctis beats him to grabbing the condoms and the lube, pouring nearly half the bottle in his hand before suddenly yanking Gladio in close by the shoulder. His other hand practically rips off the button on Gladio's pants before shoving them down along with his underwear, enough to expose Gladio's hard dick so he can slide the condom on for him and start coating him everywhere. He's moving without any patience, hand dancing and stroking him a little more roughly than he knows he should be, but Gladio's not complaining or stopping him for once, instead squeezing his eyes shut and pushing into his palm with the same mirrored desperation. 

Who knows how much else he'd been holding back all this time, and Noctis feels a little bad for not reciprocating earlier. At least, he can make it up to him now as he wraps his fingers more tightly around Gladio's cock and starts stroking him with a furious rhythm, watching as Gladio's expression contorts from the stimulation. It's mesmerizing to see the way his brows draw in and the way his lashes always tremble when they press together along with the subtle flush of exertion that paints his tanned cheeks, and Noctis indulges himself in pressing his lips to the scar beneath his eye, kissing him there because he doesn't know how else to really show him his gratitude. It feels like words fail him too quickly all the time when he needs them the most, so he hopes the non-verbal gestures always speak loudly for him in exchange. 

Gladio doesn't allow him to get any further strokes in, prying his hands away so he can grab him by the thighs and tug him in closer as he positions the tip of his erection to his entrance. It used to unnerve him so much to get this far, but the fear had dulled over time, giving way to too much pleasure and curiosity, and Noctis no longer tenses up like a vice as he once used to. Instead, he tries to help Gladio ease inside, maneuvering him with his own hand as he watches his face and tries to drown in the dark color of his eyes so he can stop himself from focusing on the initial pain and discomfort that comes with penetration.

His cock inches its way slowly inside as Noctis tries to breathe through every second of it, exhaling loudly until Gladio's fully buried in him, stretching him uncomfortably and making his inner muscles feel the strain. He has to keep listening to himself breathe to stay relaxed, idly following Gladio's hand as it plants on the bed next to his head while the other wriggles under his body and cradles the small of his back, lifting him up slightly. The new angle leaves him seated even deeper inside, now pressed too firm and tight against the one spot that makes Noctis wriggle in place just to get more stimulation against the area. 

"You're always so impatient," Gladio whispers, though his voice sounds as broken as his own did a few seconds ago, and he can tell how badly Gladio's still trying to hold back, how much the older man is dying to start thrusting into him. Noctis wants to be fucked just as badly, too, but his body always takes far too much time to adjust and relax around his size. Even with measured breaths, the pain is stagnant and unyielding, and he has to guide Gladio's palm to his own cock, silently urging him to stroke him and keep him distracted. 

"-and spoiled," Gladio ends up adding before acquiescing and jerking him gently in rhythm with the light rocks of his hips. 

The slide of his callused fingers does feel heavenly between the insistent ache creeping up his body, and Noctis slowly starts to move back against him, pushing himself against Gladio's cock at the same time the other man presses into him. They still follow a slow and tentative pace, trying to find their footing in between the familiar sensations reawakening that draw Noctis back to the quiet evenings where they'd stay up until late trying to memorize the weight of each other's body against their own skin. He hadn't ever wanted those days to end, and he doesn't want this moment right now to end, either. 

It hits him hard then just how much he missed being this close and intimate with Gladio, feeling this level of raw connection to him and being able to see the thoughts scrolling loudly through his expression, too bare and naked in front of him. When they're like this, Noctis can't hide from him at all either, stripped down to his most primitive self, enslaved by his wants, craving them with the obsessiveness of a man who knows how much he stands to lose each day. 

The most selfish part of him wants to be trapped here in a loop, feeling his body grow unbearable underneath his own skin, the pressure escalating to a maddening degree as Gladio slides inside him -cuts right through him, rips him down the center and leaves his tattered remains over the sheets. He yields and asks for more by dragging his hands under his shirt, finding his back and digging inwards to leave more scars everywhere, mark him ways that can't be washed away like the tattoos that decorate his skin. He wants this moment to override everything else, not just his grief and anguish -to rule over him, immerse him completely in the sheer unfiltered pleasure that starts to vibrate through him, and Gladio's control starts to slowly splinter over him as he tightens his grip on his back and thrusts in hard. 

Noctis' voice disappears into a sudden rush of air pulled free from his throat, nearly strangled out as he tries to wrap his tongue around the syllables of Gladio's name before giving up entirely. There's nothing more he can say, instead focusing on meeting his every thrust, slamming his body down at the same time Gladio drives into him, and watching as the sparks singe across his vision until his eyes screw shut and his whole body trembles with the urge to explode already. He doesn't know how long he'll last from all the teasing, only knows that he's already past the point of return as he rides himself hard on Gladio's cock and keeps tightening his legs and forcing him deeper, making him brush more firmly up against his muscles and tempting all the pressure in his cock to overflow. He's aching there at this point, pleading wordlessly for relief as he clenches down all around Gladio and scrapes twin red trails on either side of his spine with his fingers, really wanting him to let go, too. 

The mattress protests feebly beneath them, but Glad doesn't listen as he fucks him as hard as both their bodies would allow and pants out heavily into the side of Noctis' neck. Sometimes, he can swear he hears his own name being gasped out, too, but it might be wishful thinking at this point when every other thought in his mind feels like it's being shaken loose from his head. All he can do is cling onto Gladio's body moving over him and inhale the sudden powerful scent of sweat and musk emerging from the two of them, and just like that, Noctis finds his breaking point, suddenly pulling Gladio down against his body in a tight embrace as his own face buries into his shoulder to hide the vulnerable expression he knows he's making as he comes right against him. It feels as though the pleasure is being ripped right out of him from how hard his muscles all simultaneously clamp down at once before relaxing, and he can't seem to stop shaking after even as he feels Gladio still thrusting into him. He doesn't last much longer either, groaning quietly against his ear as he tenses up above him then sinks right out of him, being careful as he pulls out. 

Gladio's hand then reaches out for his face, cradling his cheek and kissing him on the forehead as Noctis tries to catch his breath and calm his body down.

"You okay?" Gladio asks quietly, his expression full of sincere concern.

Noctis nods and tries to climb through the jumbled words in his mind to give him a more verbal response. "I'll probably hate you in the morning." 

That draws a small laugh out of Gladio as he moves off of him completely to discard the used condom in a wastebasket. "I can live with that." 

He heads into the bathroom next to grab a towel to clean them both off before stripping down to just his underwear and climbing in behind him. It's the first time Noctis ever feels Gladio actually hold him as he falls asleep, and he doesn't have the energy to throw him off or complain about the sudden added layer of hot skin against him. It's easier to fall asleep entirely like this and let Gladio keep his mind from straying too far as he starts to dream.  

 

**017.**

 

The train rattles beneath him, the compartment shaking erratically from side to side as Noctis tries to remember how to breathe. The ring still weighs heavily in his pocket as he remembers Gladio's words to him, letting them echo repeatedly in his mind, but he still can't bring himself to bear its weight himself. His mind won't let him forget the sight of Luna's pained face, having thought he'd deliriously dreamed it up until Ignis had told him otherwise. She'd been lost to sea, a fragile corpse he never got to hold or speak to, so many thoughts that he wanted to share with her. The pages they'd written to one another could do nothing to make up for all the conversations he had imagined in his head during their reunion. Would she have hugged him? Would she have been happy to see his progress? Would she have been excited to meet all his closest friends in person after he'd written to her about them?

There's no way to know now, and he can't cope with the thought that he never even got to say goodbye. Once again, someone else had fallen to save him instead, and he couldn't do anything at all to protect them. How many people had he unwittingly buried by now? How many more will follow? 

Ignis had suffered the brunt of the damage out of the three of them, his eyes cut up beyond use, the sight of him a crushing blow through his chest that leaves Noctis feeling weak and unable to really stand steady on his own two feet anymore. They'd taken a detour to find one of the royal tombs after, and that had made it all the more apparent what kind of position Ignis is in now exactly. 

Unable to fight or cook, it must be killing him inside to be questioning his use and purpose just like Noctis has been since they'd left Altissia. What is it that he's really meant to do? Why does he feel like he's only bringing forth misery and destruction instead of taking out Niflheim like he wanted to? -Reclaiming his throne like he'd promised to?

There's no clear answer at all, and he can't even talk to anyone about it. Prompto tries to lighten the mood as always, though his words barely crack the surface of the heavy mourning veil Noctis has been wearing since he left Altissia. Gladio doesn't want anything to do with him right now, though Noctis is surprised he hadn't left completely -he knows he has his sister to look after, and he hasn't exactly proven himself to be a king worth following up until now. He wouldn't exactly blame him if he does want to leave, but he figures maybe it's his age-old pledge as an Amictia that keeps him from budging from his side.

It means a lot to him that all three are still by his side, but he can't find the words to thank them right now. He can't find any words at all, instead sitting mutely in the private compartment and staring straight into the wall ahead of him, resisting the urge to cry like he wants to. All the tears left in his body have long since dried up anyway, and he knows they won't bring Luna back. They won't restore his kingdom. They won't apologize to his father for him for being such a brat when they had to say goodbye. If only he could go back to each and every one of those moments and relish them instead of letting them pass by without so much as a second thought. 

He should have been stronger this whole time; he shouldn't have depended on so many other people to fight his battles for him. It digs a deep crater into the center of his chest, and his heart feels like it's in physical pain whenever he inhales. 

How many sentences has he begun with the simple words _'if only…'_

When the train compartment door opens, his whole body tenses up, expecting Gladio for a moment, and he's not in the mood to really talk to him at all. Luckily, it's Prompto who slides in instead and sits down next to him, and his thin fingers rest next to Noctis' before his pinky stretches out to tap his gently. 

"So it's kind of cold outside. Figured I'd warm up faster in here. Who'd have thought the area around Gralea would be this nippy?" 

It's idle chatter, but it is pleasantly distracting at the moment. Noctis would rather hear Prompto than his own voice in his head at the moment, so he doesn't brush him off this time.

"Yeah, kind of makes me wish I hadn't left my jacket all the way in the Regalia. It's too far in the storage cart to walk." 

Prompto chuckles gently at those words. "Ignis would probably nag you, you know." 

Any other time probably, but he knows Ignis isn't even thinking about the temperature right now. His mind is elsewhere, and he doesn't begrudge him at all. Noctis doesn't want to be his first priority at the moment. 

"Ah," he agrees after a beat, "I'll probably change a little later. Not really in the mood." 

"Aw, come on," Prompto urges, "a walk might do you some good, you know? Take in the fresh air seeping through the windows. The food's not too bad. Managed to get online in King's Knight here even with the shitty service, so if you want to go a round-" 

"Maybe later." 

He wouldn't be able to focus anyway, everything else seemingly trivial in front of what awaits him in Gralea. The crystal rests there, but so does the Niflheim empire, and it's likely he'll have to fight harder than he's ever had to to get to it. The apprehension has been building since they left the royal tomb with limited information about what he is up against. He knows Prompto is scared, too, but he can't think of anything right now to reassure him, only lets their hands rest next to one another, quietly enjoying the subtle heat that passes through them until the train jerks to a new stop. 

Gladio's the one who ends up fetching them at the moment, telling them that they're getting closer -to remain alert. Noctis shares a few words with Ignis afterwards  before the scenery around him seems to still, bodies growing lifeless and unmoving, expressions frozen like dolls. Only Noctis is given any freedom, and he starts moving frantically from train cart to cart, wondering if he's dreaming. Is it all an illusion at this point? He can't even tell, finding reality slipping fast from his fingers. Nothing seems to make sense anymore, and he's trying to weave through the visuals and find his way to clarity when insanity wants to dance with him instead. 

Ardyn leads him on a chase, looks at him with terror when he yells and retaliates. There's something off about his expression, but Noctis doesn't back off at all, threatening him, wanting to tear him apart with his own hands. Yet his body can only push him so far because instinct keeps jerking him around, halting him from the violence he wants to impart. 

It's the smell that tips him off -this is the warm and familiar scent from just a few minutes ago. This isn't the scent of the man that laid his kingdom to waste. 

His mind goes blank after that, and he wakes up to Niflheim's attacks. He feels like he's running on auto-pilot when he moves to defend the train, Prompto's voice urging him on. He barely has time to think as he cuts the imperials down, slicing through every last MT and feeling nothing as they fall to the ground like broken mannequins. There's no fear or remorse left in him, but he does find it in himself to at least worry about the people on the train, trying to stop them from being blown up. 

Once the attack is mitigated enough, he returns to the train top and sees Prompto and Ardyn staring each other down. His body once again moves before the rest of him can catch up, fearing losing his best friend more than anything. It's a fear so strong that it grips him everywhere at once, and reflex has him shoving Ardyn off as hard as he can, watching him with some twisted sense of satisfaction when he falls. 

Except when he glances over to make sure Prompto is okay next to him. The mask drops, and Ardyn smiles daggers at him while the real Prompto rolls off into the landscape. It's all Noctis can do not to scream right there, his limbs shaking while he rapidly climbs down into the train. He doesn't care if he has to beg and plea to get them to stop. He has to find his friend. 

_What did he do?_

Tears burn at his eyes, and Ignis and Gladio practically have to restrain him and calm him down after but all Noctis can do is watch Prompto's horrified face replay in his mind over and over like a broken reel. It's no different than the face Luna had given him when she'd been stabbed. 

_Like they'd been betrayed._

He was supposed to protect them, not hurt them. Why didn't he stop to think at all? Why did he move forward like that? He could have figured it out if he had just heard Prompto speak to him.

The guilt burrows into him deeper than before, and he fights not to breakdown like he wants to under Gladio's expectant gaze. Though, at some point, with his head buried in his hands and his whole body still racked with dry sobs, he feels Gladio's hand lie on his neck, warm and comforting, brushing its way down to the top of his spine in a soothing gesture. It's the most he's touched him since before they arrived in Altissia, and Noctis hadn't even been aware of how long it had been until that moment. He also hadn't been aware how much he'd missed it.

The night before boarding the boat from Caem, Gladio had ended things once more, implored him to think of his people and the message of hope the wedding would bring. The nail had been hammered into the coffin when they reached Altissia and looked up at Luna's wedding dress, and Gladio had still firmly urged him to go through with the wedding and not just keep stubbornly putting it off, though Noctis hadn't fully committed to it in his heart.

It had all become a moot point anyway with Luna gone. There will be no wedding obviously, and Noctis doesn't know what lies beyond that. After obtaining the crystal and returning to Insomnia… what more can he do? He has no real plan. Right now, his only thought isn't even on the crystal. It's on saving Prompto, and he can't seem to fixate on anything else, especially because it's his entire fault Prompto had been knocked off the train to begin with. He'd give his own life in exchange to save him at this point even when he knows that it's the job of the Crownsguard to protect him instead. He still doesn't want to lose any of them. 

His body leans back after a moment, pressing into Gladio's palm and trying to commit the moment to memory. Much like every other, he doesn't know how long he'll get to enjoy this, but he does want it to stretch on a little longer. Unfortunately, Tenebrae comes into view, the castle from his distant childhood memories drowned in flames that further etch into him the idea that everything he loves will soon be turned to ash. He'll no longer be able to walk through the garden outside of Luna's room -no longer be able to inhale the scent of sylleblossoms wafting through every window. Instead, there's the smell of smoke in the air, the burning hot embers that lick the world around them and bring terror to the eyes of all the refugees as they can do nothing else but watch their home burn down.

Noctis swears to himself then that he'll do everything in his power to rebuild it one day. Tenebrae, Insomnia, Altissia… they'll all stand proudly together in the future when the empire is crushed. He doesn't know how yet, but he's starting to come into terms with the fact that all these people need someone to fight for them. His fingers idly brush over the ring in his pocket as he continues to amass together the remaining vestiges of resolve.

What awaits on the other side of these train tracks is something Noctis can't even begin to imagine, but he steels himself for the worst and lets Gladio's arm sit around his shoulders, keeping him grounded and steady for the time being. 

"We'll find him," Gladio reassures him quietly, his eyes regarding him a surprising amount of gentleness. 

Noctis breathes out loudly with those words as his own hand touches Gladio's knee, fingers wrapping carefully around the bone there. It's tough and sturdy to the touch, reminding him that Gladio had been an impenetrable force this entire journey -that's the burden that's been placed on him. He doesn't have the luxury to breakdown the same way Noctis has so many times in the past, and while he admires him for it, he also thinks maybe Gladio could use the release from time to time.

If only he could have been better support to him in return, but he's tired of all the regret. Right now, the only path is forward, and he lets Gladio support him for just a bit longer as his whole body weighs into his side, allowing sleep take a hold of him. With his eyelids drooping down heavily, and Gladio's warmth crawling all around him, he manages to find real rest for the first time in weeks. 

 

**018.**

 

The first year is the hardest, Gladio having to spend each morning re-summoning his sword to reassure himself that Noctis is alive out there somewhere even if he misses the sound of his voice -the usual morning drawl murmured into his shoulder, the unrepentant whining, and the ragged, drawn out sound of his name mid-fucking. The thought that he might never hear him again haunts him into his waking hours, constantly thinking he does, in fact, hear him faintly around the corner, only to find some young hunter there instead. There are also times where he swears he spots his black-clad back weaving through the streets and disappearing into the tangle of the crowds in Lestallum, but it's always just his eyes playing cruel tricks on him. 

Other times, he finds himself scrolling through his phone and looking at the saved texts Noctis had sent him or swiping through pictures that Prompto had taken of all of them. It's difficult to forget what his face looks like, especially when he's seen him making just about every expression imaginable in his dreams each night, but the fear is there too that the images in his mind might also suddenly fade away without warning. He doesn't want to suddenly wake up and find all trace of Noctis gone, still rewinding through the memory of the last words they'd exchanged -the last moment they shared. 

Back in Gralea, Noctis had kissed him in relief when he'd seen him, had told him about the phantom versions of Prompto he'd seen all over the base, was near tears thinking of his best friend being tortured just because of him. It had all happened in a flurry of rushed emotions and quickly exchanged words before they'd actually found Prompto. From there, everything had started to fall apart, daemons attacking them left and right, Noctis panicking and running towards the crystal. 

If he'd known then that the prince would have been sucked in by it, he wouldn't have told him to go towards it. The regret sits in the pit of stomach, leaving all his food tasting bitter and unpleasant everyday. The nights are also colder as they stretch on longer, darkness bathing the world while the sun is only ever up for too few hours to really get much done.

He, Prompto, and Ignis try to work together to keep the daemon infestation at bay while more people become infected. It seems like everyday, the daemons just keep multiplying as human populations start to crash at an alarming rate. Galdin Quay is, of course, the first major landmark to go. With it, the memories of their first night there where they had heard of Insomnia's fall. That's when everything had changed, and now, he's left watching the world become swallowed up in eternal darkness while the chancellor, Ardyn Izunia, mocks them all by remaining too far out of reach. Only Noctis can stop him, but they do their best to mitigate some of the chaos left by him and round up any and all survivors, escorting them to safe zones. 

By the second year, Prompto has mostly started to hover around Hammerhead and take care of that region. He roams around Duscae himself with Ignis, helping train him on occasion. The other man improves at an alarming rate -mostly out of necessity and his will to survive- while Gladio supports him as best as he can. 

He's also stopped summoning his weapon every morning, but the fear still seizes him in the middle of the night, causing him to wake up in puddles of his own sweat while panting. He has a more permanent place in Lestallum where he takes care of Iris who has also started seriously training under the Marshal to help with daemon hunting. While he'd objected to it at first, the fear of losing her too had ultimately made him realize that she needs to be able to defend herself. If something were to happen to him, she'd be on her own, and at this point, she also needs to know how to survive without him.

Noctis would be impressed if he could see her now, and he hopes he will be able to one day. It's a small thread of hope that he holds onto while the world unravels everywhere around him. More landmarks fall, more daemons roam the terrain, and they find the wildlife being killed off in droves. The chocobos have it the worst while Wiz tries, in vain, to preserve the remainder of them, carting them to Lestallum to try and keep a few safe. 

When the third year comes, Gladio has travelled as far out as Gralea to pick up survivors with the help of Wedge, Biggs, and Aranea. They cart them back in large numbers, having to stuff as many as they can in the train because the ruins of Tenebrae are now no longer safe and neither is Altissia. The infestation is growing as the light dies above them. He only hopes that Noctis can't see all the fields of sylleblossoms suddenly die. 

Sania takes a few seeds with her to preserve them as she's been obsessively collecting seeds of all kinds of flowers and plants just to make sure they survive in some form. Gladio tells her that when the light returns, they'll replant everything and create beautiful gardens around Insomnia that will flourish for the future generation, but even he has a hard time believing those words. 

When he and Ignis meet up, it's mostly to hunt or train with few words exchanged between them. They occasionally stop by to see Prompto, too, who shows them photos of his adventures but also pulls out a lot of the old camera rolls. It's Noctis' smiling face that sticks with him long after, and he thinks of how Noctis would probably complain that they're doing their best to salvage all the vegetable plants he hates. He'd definitely moan and groan about it when he comes back, so Gladio helps Sania gather some extra vegetable seeds just to playfully spite him from afar.  
   
After the fourth year, Gladio starts seeing Prompto and Ignis less and less, barely hearing from them outside of the occasional text or hunt. By then, Iris has become a full fledged hunter and has started traveling with him to help take out some of the local terrors. The Marshal also deigns to join them, and time hasn't withered his strength or power at all. Gladio finds himself silently impressed by his will, though he also sees the sadness lingering at the edges of his eyes, the solemn way he carries himself as though he's always walking through a funerary procession. Even so, there's no sign of surrender from him, still ready and willing to help any hunter out there. His only concern is to help eradicate the daemons as is Gladio's. 

Hopefully, there will be some buildings left standing when Noctis returns -whenever that is. Gladio doesn't know, and he hates thinking about how much he's missing out on while simultaneously feeling relieved he doesn't have to suffer all this with him. 

The nights still feel too long and quiet, and he misses a warm body in his bed so much that he starts to sleep around again, though it always feels empty and meaningless after, no promises exchanged. Just a mess of two bodies and the unpleasant aftermath. The morning always brings regret, and he thinks sometimes he has to bite his tongue to stop hissing out the name that's always on his mind. 

At the fifth year mark, the three of them gather in Lestallum for an anniversary of sorts, and Gladio offers to pay for drinks that even Ignis chugs down unquestioningly. The alcohol burns a hole in the side of his stomach, but Gladio relishes it nevertheless because it's distracting. That's all he's searching for lately when he starts seeing Noctis' back everywhere once more and finds himself looking at his phone too often again. 

He hasn't really gotten over him at all and doesn't think he can at this point, whether he returns or not. What's a shield without a king? It's a question that's hovered in his mind and refuses to budge, knowing his sense of purpose had dwindled when Noctis had disappeared. Now, he just carries the hope that he'll come back one day, take the throne, and Gladio can serve him as he was always meant to. 

With the alcohol still swishing through his stomach, he drags Ignis and Prompto back to his place to crash. Somewhere in the middle of the night, he wakes up to Prompto fussing with his jacket in the blistering heat, and he slides out of bed while still drunk to help him remove it. In the tumble of things, Prompto suddenly wraps his arms around him and sobs into his shirt, and Gladio's heart aches for him. Instead of pushing him away, he holds onto him one-armed and lets him lie next to him until morning when they pretend nothing happened at all. 

Of all of them, Prompto is probably the one who has been coping the worst, but he has no words of reassurance to offer. The only thing that can reassure them now is the way their blue-tinged weapons feel in their hands when they reappear in their grip -the only proof that Noctis still lives somewhere. 

Daemons rule the land by the sixth year, the infestation having reached a dire point where it's unsafe for most to travel on their own. Gladio finds more dead carcasses everywhere when he does leave, the stench of it constantly leaving him nauseated. He's unable to sleep when he returns on those nights and has to chase down the chill running through him with alcohol or bury himself in a good book. 

Iris grows more determined to protect the survivors and shows a strength even he hadn't been sure she'd possess. She's already able to roam around on her own without needing either him or the Marshal, and she comes back with renewed vigor each time. The change in her does make him proud, and he knows their father would also be proud if he could see her now, though there are times where he finds himself thinking about his old man and wishing he could have given him a proper burial. He still hopes to see Insomnia one day even if that, too, is crawling with daemons. 

Maybe when Noctis gets back, he tells himself…

By the seventh year, he's begun casually seeing one of the plant workers from EXINERIS and spends most of his evenings with her. Her bright red hair reminds him nothing of Noctis at all so he doesn't get stuck in the trap of pretending. It's a fresh new start, and he knows Noctis wouldn't begrudge him at this point. They all could be left waiting for him for another twenty or thirty years. 

It doesn't feel as empty when they do sleep together, but he also doesn't feel the same excitement he once had, either. It's mostly stress relief to him, only there to scratch an itch instead of offering true satisfaction.

He also starts to collect books again in a little hollowed-out shelf in his apartment. There aren't a lot left that have survived, but he preserves whatever he can find out on his hunting adventures -magazines, cook books, comics. He manages to encounter one that Noctis used to read as a teenager about a dragon rider and reads it from cover to finish. It's absolute garbage, but he can almost picture Noctis getting defensive in front of him when he tells him as much. He also finds a few old gaming systems that he also picks up just in case Noctis ever wants to re-play some of these games when he comes back.

He's still with the same woman a year later, though the land has all been sunk into darkness permanently. Plants start to die at an alarming rate without much sunlight, and they have to start rationing provisions while building internal gardens in Lestallum to try and grow new crops under artificial light. Ignis comes up with new recipes to help sustain the local population and spends a good chunk of his time cooking and feeding the starving. 

There are only a few chocobos left that get put into a stable deeper within the city's walls, but the distress is shortening their lifespan fast and they refuse to produce eggs. Gladio doesn't think they'll live much longer than a few years, but that doesn't stop Prompto from occasionally stopping by to fawn over them and take pictures. He also takes them out for a ride around the city on occasion, but it's not quite the same when every little shuffle and howl spooks the creature out and leaves it squawking and ruffled. 

The ninth year passes the slowest of all of them now without the sunlight to indicate what day they're even on. It feels like one long extended day that never ends, and Gladio has built a sizable collection of books in a short time. His girlfriend's moved in by then, and they've adopted a stray cat with a clipped ear. It's preferred place of sleep is on Gladio's chest where it leaves behind little black hairs everywhere. Sometimes, Gladio swears it's Noctis in cat form when it refuses most of the food he tries to feed it and is only ever affectionate with him in the dead of the 'night'. 

He starts calling it 'Little Noct' in his head and finding small toys for it to shred up and chew on, and for a moment, it does feel like the prince is with him, somehow keeping him company through this cat. But that's just crazy wishful thinking at this point. No one's heard anything from Noctis in years.

Yet, Gladio can still summon his weapon, so there's hope. 

_There's always hope._

When the tenth year rolls around -that's when Gladio gets the call. 

He's just freshly out of the shower with his girlfriend grilling something rich and tasty in the other room when his cell phone starts vibrating. Talcott is on the other line sounding more breathless and excited than he can ever recalling hearing him. 

"The Prince-!" he says through the broken static, "-found-" 

"Slow down," Gladio tells him, "deep breaths, kid. What about the prince?" 

"He's- here! He's with me!" 

And that's when Gladio's heart drops down to the soles of his feet. He barely has time to say goodbye to his girlfriend before he barrels out the door, breath frozen in his throat and phone clutched in his hand. He has to see him with his own eyes. He has to know he's real. 

"I'm on my way," he says quickly before hopping into his truck. 

There's only enough time to send out quick texts to Ignis and Prompto, informing them he'll pick them up and take them all to Hammerhead. 

_'Please let him be okay,'_ he whispers again and again in his mind as he drives with clammy, trembling hands around the wheel. 

 

 **019.**

 

Time had aged the four of them considerably, and Gladio doesn't realize just how much until he stares at Noctis, trying to get past his shell shock to really take in the sight of him. According to Talcott, he'd been found wandering the road near Galdin Quay and battling daemons on his own, and he looks as battered and beaten as Gladio would have imagined. There's a thick layer of dirt caked onto his hair and face, and he definitely smells like he hadn't taken a shower in ten years. The hair on his face also masks the androgynous features that had dominated his looks through most of his youth, leaving him a lot more rugged and mature. The one unmistakable part of him, however, is his eyes, the bright blue color that could sear through anyone's soul, still enchanting even if the shape looks slightly more narrow now and dusted with dark circles and slight red bruising on his eyelids. 

When he speaks, his voice also sounds slightly deeper, like he's carrying the weight of the world in each word, and Gladio has a hard time not being consumed by the simple sight and sound of him, fingers itching at his side to define the reality of the situation by touching him, too. The only thing stopping him is how frail the prince looks, all those years in the crystal having done little to put more meat and muscle on his body. Hopefully, they can rectify that fast now that he's out, but Noctis doesn't look particularly weakened by the experience. His gait seems more assured than ever as he strides towards them, and ten years haven't erased how gentle and alluring he still looks when he smiles. 

They spend some time catching up inside the former diner, exchanging stories. Prompto has ten years worth of photos to show off while Ignis names off some of the newest recipes he'd picked up while daemon hunting and having to survive on whatever plant life hadn't died due to the lack of light on Eos. Gladio himself fills them in on Iris' progress and how Cor and Cid are doing back in Lestallum before telling Noctis about the girl he'd been seeing for three years. The prince reacts with only solemn acceptance, nodding along and trying to smile, though the gesture doesn't always reach his eyes. It's almost as if he's constantly on the verge of tears, but neither of them want to be the first one to breakdown. 

They have the caravan to themselves for the night, which Noctis steals first to shower away all the grime from his body. The three of them sit outside to give him some privacy and exchange quiet glances before Prompto ends up speaking first.

"Can't believe he's really back. Oh man, is Iris going to flip or what? We got a lot of lost time to make up for." 

"I haven't told her, yet," Gladio remarks, knowing he probably _should_ , but she'll insist on coming along to Insomnia with them if he does. This is a battle only the four of them can finish right now, and he hopes she forgives him for leaving her out this time. Insomnia's also a hellish battlezone, more so than the rest of the world, and he's still over-protective enough to fear something bad happening to her while she's there. Knowing Ardyn's also over there waiting for them, he's not going to send her to her death anytime soon. 

"Well, I'm sure she won't mind hearing about it when everything's over." 

Ignis chuckles next to him and pats his shoulder gently, "Yes, there will be time enough for that after. We can all go to Lestallum together." 

It's a nice thought, knowing Noctis would probably want to see all of his old acquaintances. Sania, Dave, Monica, Wiz... they're all there, too. These past ten years, everyone has been waiting for the future king, and have held onto the hope that Insomnia would be rebuilt and that the light would return to Eos. At least, with Noctis back, every hope now seems tangible and within their grasp. 

When Noctis emerges a few minutes later, he almost seems like an entirely different person. His hair is combed out of his face and more neatly coiffed while his skin had been scrubbed clean to show the few faint moles and beauty-marks that time hadn't erased. He's also dressed in a button down shirt and loose slacks to sleep in, clothes that Ignis had lent him for the time being. It's easier to take a note of the changes now -how sunken in his cheeks have become and the faint wrinkling around his eyes. If anyone ever doubted he was Regis' son, it's impossible to deny it now looking at him carrying himself with his father's regal grace and the austere angles that now sit in place where his youthful roundness used to be. 

It's still hard to believe it's him when Gladio had the image of his younger self in his mind for so long, had stared at those photos on phone so often that it's a wonder it still works. Having feared he'd lose everything, he backed up those files as much as he could. 

"It's ...not a bad change, is it?" Noctis finally comments, fingers self-consciously reaching out to touch the beard on his face. 

That's more like the Noctis he remembers, and Gladio is the first to shake his head.

"Just takes some time getting used to. We've all met up enough times that we're used to one another, but you..." 

_It's been ten years._ Ten long drawn out years, wondering if they'd get to speak like this again, if he'd ever behold Noctis' shy smile or smell the clean soap from his skin -run his fingers through his hair, slide his palm down the back of his neck, hear Noctis groan out near his ear. 

All the longing he'd held onto for so long rams into him like a truck, and there's nothing he can do but try and absorb the impact because he's supposed to have move past whatever they had ten years ago. They're both different people now, but Noctis' eyes still find his and settle there, and too many unspoken words linger behind the enigmatic expression that follows. There's something he looks like he wants to say, but his mouth pushes itself closed shut and he sits down in one of the chairs outside the caravan instead.

It all suddenly feels like old times, exchanging light conversation and casual barbs. Prompto talks Noctis' ear off as he shows off some of his greatest shots, and Ignis has some leftovers that he shares. Gladio finds himself leaning on his palm and just quietly watching Noctis while relearning everything about him from the way his demeanor changes in conversation to the casual way his fingers flick over his own hair and keep fussing with the too long strands. Afterwards, both he and Noctis remain the last to go to bed, and Noctis' eyes keep flickering around with the return of his uncertainty and hesitation. 

"Gladio," he starts, and he leans forward so that his elbows rest on his thighs as his body moves in closer, "there's something I need to tell you ...all three of you. I want to tell you together." 

His lower lip keeps quivering, making the words fall out shakily, and Gladio suddenly feels like he's been punched in the gut. Whatever it is, he knows it can't be good if it has Noctis looking like he does now, but Gladio tries to search for something reassuring to say.

"Take your time. Say it when you're ready." 

He squeezes his palm around Noctis' shoulder before letting his fingers drift across to his hair. He hadn't touched him at all since they reunited, but now the urge to do so is overpowering every other sense, still trying to convince himself this is real by feeling how warm and soft he is under his fingertips. His hair hadn't lost its texture, and his cheeks are still unmarred and pale, easy to slip his touch across before his thumb lands on Noctis' lips. They're broken and chapped, but he can't help trace repeatedly over the torn tissue. 

That seems to incite something in Noctis because the next thing he knows, the prince is moving towards him with sudden desperation, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to kiss him hard. His whole body leans over him between his legs as his tongue presses to the front of his mouth to pry its way inside, and while Gladio knows he should stop him, everything else at the moment turns into faded white noise in the background, easily ignored as he grabs Noctis by the waist and tugs him forward. The heat of his wiry body plows into him when he holds him, burning himself on the entire length of him as he hugs him to himself, and Noctis struggles to keep kissing him while hunching over him until his neck starts to ache. That's when he pulls away, panting loudly and using the arm rests on Gladio's chair for support. 

"I know you're with someone," he whispers after, his voice already sounding apologetic, "and I know I'm being selfish and spoiled like you always say, but-" 

His eyes slide to the ground before the rest of him follows, and he kneels before him, dropping his forehead against Gladio's knees as his whole body shakes as hard as his voice had been seconds ago.

"I'll tell you soon, okay?" 

For once, Gladio doesn't press him or drive it out of him. If it's that important, it can wait. If he's learned anything these past ten years, it's that the best things are always worth the wait.

His hand ends up reaching out for Noctis' hair again, fingers pushing in deeper to stroke him and calling up faint memories of the cat he'd left back in Lestallum. "It's fine, Noct. How about we head inside and sleep?" 

The prince nods faintly but doesn't move for a few minutes, remaining against him, looking tired and solemn. It's hard to see him like that, remembering how defiant he'd been in front of Ardyn and those daemons ten years ago, and it makes Gladio worry about what those ten years had done to him exactly. He's sure he'll hear about it soon, but for now, they retreat inside the caravan and fall asleep side by side. 

They next morning finds the four of them changing into the uniforms they'd kept stashed away in Hammerhead ten years ago. Noctis' royal garb had been excellently preserved and pressed by Ignis who helps him finally put it on. When Gladio sees him, he realizes he can no longer keep calling him his prince anymore.

_No, this man is his king now._

A king he feels proud to serve. A king he'd give his life for. A king he'd follow into the dawn. 

And so he sets out after him towards Insomnia, traveling on foot and eliminating daemons along. The old dance between the four of them feels as familiar as ever, falling easily into old patterns and moving with a synergy that they had struggled to achieve at the start of this trip. Now, the tides of battle flow so smoothly, and Ignis doesn't even have to say a word. They all already know and move into place without thinking, preparing for the next attack.

Even ten years hadn't lessened Noctis' own battle prowess, able to easily keep up with them. Rather- they're the ones who have to work harder to keep up with him. The magic from the crystal had given him a hefty boost, and he's definitely a lot stronger than before. Add to that the power of the ring, and all the daemons are obliterated quickly until they reach their final stop on the way to Insomnia. It had been one of the first camp sites they'd stayed in after they left the crown city and after the Regalia had broken down. Gladio still remembers watching Noctis actually slip off early to do some fishing that day, the sight of him scrambling back to camp with dinner remaining fresh in his thoughts. Unfortunately, most of the fish had died out, leaving the waters infested with things neither of them would like to eat, so Noctis is a bit out of luck there.  

With the fire built and the four of them set in their chairs, that's when Noctis finally decides to address them all, and the words aren't easy to say at all. His voice shakes harder than before as he recants what happened in the crystal, his meeting with Bahamut and his destined role. The implication there is that he won't be able to see the dawn with them when it breaks through the sky, and the tears don't stop pouring loose down Noctis' cheeks when he tries to rasp out his goodbyes. All Gladio and the other two can do is sit and listen even as a sword starts to twist through his chest slowly, the rough edges scraping all along his insides to bleed him dry. 

Suddenly, all his plans for after the battle feel meaningless. He was going to take him to see Iris -give him a tour around Lestallum, share drinks in the local pub there, stand by side and let the sun bathe all four of them as they peer over Lestallum's lookout point. He'll never get to do any of that with him. He'll never even be able to hear him caustically blow off training again or swat his hands away in the morning when he tries to wake him. He'll never get to see his face light up when he catches a big fish or hug him after in victory. 

There won't be a tomorrow for him, and Gladio weeps hard at the realization while fighting to breathe through the weight of his own sadness. The crushing blow to it all is the gentle way Noctis thanks them and tells them all he loves them, the finality laden in those words that he knows he never would have spoken if he really did have more time.

That night, nobody wants to be the first to go to sleep no matter how tired they all feel until Noctis asks if he can talk to him alone in the tent and requests just an hour. Ignis remarks that he's in no rush and that he and Prompto can scout around the area for a bit longer. Already knowing what's on Noctis' mind, Gladio doesn't bother wasting time or words as he pins him to the dirty ground and kisses him. There's only a single lantern illuminating the two of them, but it's more than enough as Gladio drags Noctis' legs around his waist and pours all his sorrow into that kiss. What more can they say at this point? 

They've already overused the word 'goodbye' a lot, and everything else that he feels beyond that is better expressed through the heated press of their bodies as he pushes his hips forward and feels Noctis' answering jerk against him. It's sweaty to do this through their clothes, but they don't have the time or the patience to undress all the way, more concerned with attacking one another with kisses. Noctis' teeth pull and grind, digging into the skin and leaving tears across his lips before scraping them down his chin. He feels the edges bite down hard into his jaw next as his fingers claw at his pants, the metal of his belt clinking loudly in the stillness of the night. The leather is unfastened enough to reach his button and zipper, and Noctis' hand wraps around his cock in a tight fist, gripping him boldly and mercilessly as he starts pumping upwards.

It's almost as if they're being chased by an hour glass at the moment, sand precariously falling from one end to the other, and the both of them left racing against it as Gladio reaches into his bag. The lube there hasn't been touched in ten years, but he doesn't care as it's all he has right now. He's more concerned with finding his way inside of Noctis' body, being swallowed up by the raw heat of it, squeezed and compressed against his muscles as he watches his face twist with a thousand emotions he can't voice. It's hard to take it easy at all when Noctis pushes his thumb firm against the tip of his cock, squeezes at the same time as he starts to pump in a deliriously arousing way that he used to fumble with. 

Whatever happened in those ten years had given him the brash confidence not to be afraid of anything anymore, and that fearlessness is suddenly as dangerous as it is captivating. Gladio wants to elicit more of this side of him, and he wants to give into it, too.

He grabs a tight hold of Noctis' pants and underwear next, yanking them down roughly and freeing up his legs with the king's help before Noctis' steals the bottle of lube from him, and suddenly all the harsh tension from before is broken with the sound of Noctis' laughter bubbling out of him.

"Did you really save this for ten years? I still remember it..." His voice breaks a little as he shakes beneath him, and Gladio can't help but stop and just quietly admire his face in the dim lantern light, moving strands of hair away to get a better look at the way his light eyes burn next to the orange glow.

"I don't see you coming up with a better solution," he teases back, and suddenly, everything feels all too familiar again, like they've really reclaimed their rhythm with one another after ten years, but the moment is tinged with the solemn fact that there won't be ten more after this. 

"It's fine," Noctis tells him before pouring a good amount in his hand so he can keep stroking him. 

There's no condom in the way this time, making the raw heat of his slick hand feel all the more intense as it glides over his flesh. His hips instinctively draw forwards, thrusting into his palm with more urgency as his whole body starts to thrum with impatience. His eyes try to keep finding Noctis' in the dim light, noting the king's not shying away at all but also meeting his gaze, and there's something serene drifting across his expression, like he's already accepted long ago that this would be their final night together. 

That makes Gladio all the more determined to make it count as he drizzles lube onto his own fingers before pressing them inside, preparing him with less delicacy than he'd like, but Noctis isn't complaining at all for once. Instead, he's pressing his body down, clamping muscles tightly around, trying to work himself up by forcing them in deeper into himself. Gladio helps him along by reaching between his thighs to cradle his cock, palm applying pressure by enclosing the sensitive skin between until Noctis shudders beneath him and thrusts himself harder against his fingers. To think, two years ago, he couldn't bear this as all and now he's writhing impatiently, silently pleading with him to go faster with each desperate rock of his hips, and Gladio's stuck memorizing all the minute ways his expression twists and contorts, branding them somewhere private in his mind to keep with him for years after because it aches thinking he'll never see him this open and unhinged again. No one will ever come close to having him this enraptured, but there's also no one else he'd consider willingly serving. 

His loyalty belonged to him since Noctis was born, and time had only strengthened that bond to the point where he wishes he could stand in his place -pay the blood price and let Noctis live and rule for years to come. But there's no way around the inevitable, and he has to keep blinking away the tears that dance across his eyelids as he heaves out a weighted breath. 

Sensing he's on the verge of crumbling here, Noctis' fingers climb over his cheeks before cupping both of them and pulling their mouths back together, trying to stanch the overflowing emotions by stubbornly muffling them between where their lips are crushed. Gladio tries to keep the connection between their mouths as he withdraws his fingers, only breaking the kiss long enough to glance down between them as he presses inside the King, and it's suffocating when Noctis clamps around him, drawing him into his body -drawing him deeper into the heated texture of muscle that constricts all around him. His hips move on their own volition, already intoxicated by the sensation, jerking forward until he's buried as deep as he can, and Noctis's legs hang loosely around him, using his lower body strength to pick himself from the ground and angle his body for him. 

The eerie stillness of the night embraces them as he starts moving, only able to hear the heavy way Noctis is breathing through his nose and the wet sound of their lips touching and moving together. His tongue stretches out to dance underneath Noctis', stroke it and tangle himself up inside of him as he thrusts his hips forward without any warning left. They don't need to say anything right now because Noctis' body is being too pliant and forgiving, meeting each thrust by driving himself against his cock in a way that Gladio knows hurts him. But he doesn't have the heart or voice to tell him to slow down, knowing this is what they both really want at the moment. 

He keeps thrusting into him until his hips start to ache, feeling Noctis' body arch and twist underneath him as though he's trying to screw his own joints out of place, and both the king's hands push into his hair, twining as many strands as he can cradle around his fingers before tugging him harder against his mouth, and his teeth bite into his top lip, sinking in all the cries that won't come out by driving needle points into his flesh until he cuts the surface. Then Noctis gasps hoarsely beneath him, eyes widening like some thread of sanity in his mind had completely snapped, and Gladio finds himself shoved onto his back in an instant with Noctis' body now bearing down heavily over him as he sinks onto his cock. One of Noctis' pale hands climbs to his own hair, brushing the strands back from his face flippantly, and he sits there watching him while his erection lies heavy on his stomach. 

"What is it?" Gladio breathes out, taking in the sight of him, like watching one of those ethereal paintings from the Citadel come to life, which is never something he though he'd associate with Noctis. Yet here he is, lying beneath him and marveling at how unhindered he looks, all the uncertainty brushed out of his features, and his eyes more vivid when there are tears behind them.

 "I didn't want to finish so soon," Noctis confesses, and it's weird watching him look sheepish with such a mature face. Gladio almost wants to laugh at his renewed shyness.

"Can't believe your stamina still sucks after all these years." 

Noctis playfully punches his shoulder as he chuckles, the sound quiet and endearing. "Give me a break. It's been a long time since we've done this." 

_Too long._ All those evenings with his girlfriend had taken the edge off but hadn't exactly made up for the times he wanted it to be Noctis' body underneath his instead and Noctis' name wrapped around his own tongue. He doubts this alone will ever account for the years of loneliness to come, but he makes every second worth it as his fingers wrap around his hip bones to help guide Noctis over him, watching him as he starts to roll his hips forwards and find some kind of rhythm. He settles for frenzied and messy, sinking down on him with brutal force and placing a hand on Gladio's chest -right over his scar- to steady himself as he rides him. 

Gladio can't help but be glued to the play of emotion on his face, the way pleasure and pain dance across his features and twist together, leaving him looking all too vulnerable, and it's difficult to concentrate on anything else outside of the surge of heat covering every inch of his cock as he slides down against him again and again. Against his will, his fingers tighten over his skin, bruising the surface with marks in a rush to meet him once more, slamming his way up as Noctis fucks himself over him, his breath growing louder and more labored inside the small tent. Sweat starts to paint his brow from the exertion, and his muscles twitch from overuse but neither of them come close to stopping, starved for release and all the pleasure they can wring out of each other's bodies. 

Eventually, Noctis crumbles first, sinking down on him one last time as his head drops back, and there's wetness rolling down his cheeks -sweat or tears. It's hard to tell, but Gladio's eyes follow the lines of his face as they smooth out in bliss before tracing over the sharp curve of his torso, all his bones locked into place while come spreads across his stomach. The visual stimulation alone is enough to leave him feeling overwhelmed, arching off the ground to try and keep thrusting before finally reversing their positions once more so he can slide in as deep as he needs to right now. 

Noctis' only protest is a quiet groan before he moves his hands to cup the back of his neck and slide the other against his lower spine, encouraging him with the loose embrace. A part of Gladio doesn't want to stop or give in even with his nerve endings screaming for release beneath his skin, his own muscles tightly overcharged with tension and pressure, all of it coalescing in one spot as he buries himself deep inside Noctis' body until he just shatters above him. His eyes screw shut and all the air in his body is dragged out of him from between his lips, and he trembles so hard with the force of it that he thinks he'll burst every blood vessel in his body from the sudden release. It's so intense that it borders on painful, and he has to force his eyelids apart just so he can catch a glimpse of Noctis, wishing he could immortalize the image of him looking so peaceful and elated beneath him in every singe brain cell in his mind. He doesn't want to forget this - _he doesn't want to forget him._

A hand moves over his cheek, Noctis' shaking thumb tracing down the first scar his face bore again and again. He feels the rough texture of it following down the mark, and Noctis smiles sadly at him. 

"What I wouldn't give to stay," the king whispers, his voice barely audible beneath the dry sob he knows is bubbling in his throat, "-with all of you." 

Gladio's whole body feels tired at those words, like he's too completely out of any mental or physically fuel to really process it, and he pulls out of Noctis's body carefully before dropping his forehead against his chest. Faintly and steady, Noctis' heart throbs against his own flesh, and he tries to commit even that feeling to memory. 

"You and me both," he whispers back, and he knows he'll have to give up fighting the ongoing surge of exhaustion rolling through him at that moment. He can't stay awake forever and can't put off the final battle any longer.

That evening, the four of them sleep side by side, and he occupies one half with Noctis, hand buried in his hair, absently combing through it until Ignis' alarm goes off. It's with heavy hearts the four of them gear up again and stare out at Insomnia in the distance, the looming figure of the Citadel breaking through the horizon. It's still held up after all these years, and Noctis looks more determined than ever as he sets forth ahead of them, beckoning them to follow.

"Let's go home." 

 

 **020.**

 

It's a year since they buried him, a year since he last saw the king's face, pale and lifeless, beautiful even in death. They'd interred him in his royal garb with his father's sword tucked in his hands, and the remaining refugees in Lestallum had all gathered for the burial. Gladio had been entrusted with the hardest task of lifting Noctis from where he'd been stabbed through on the throne and carrying his body out, and he remembers how hard it had been for Prompto to keep it together next to him, his anguished sobs echoing all around him with each step. Even Ignis couldn't stop crying, but he himself remained the most composed because he had no choice. Someone had to hold him, someone had to deliver him- someone had to set him in his casket and make sure he would ascend to the afterlife in peace. 

A tomb had been prepared for Noctis when he'd been born as part of Caelum tradition. It had been built next to his father's underneath the Citadel and had remained remarkably in tact. That's where they laid him to rest with a service held by Cor as they all said their goodbyes. Of all of them, Iris had cried the loudest, laying the same flowers they had picked for her ten years ago over the casket. Everyone else had brought sylleblossoms to add a nice fragrance to the tomb that would carry on throughout the ruins of the Citadel whenever the wind blew. 

The service was held at dawn with the light spreading over their bodies, warming them up as so many kept traveling there to pay respects. For days, the entirety of the Citadel's first floor and basement level was covered in flowers, the last remains of a torn world that had just started blooming with renewed vigor and life as Eos had begun putting itself back together. Gladio had stayed in the capital to oversee the rebuilding and make space for the new refugees who had long since overcrowded Lestallum. His sister had also moved back with him along with his girlfriend, though things had become strained with her since he told her about his last night with the king.

Aside from visiting the Citadel often, he found his old apartment still in tact with all the books he had collected in his youth. Among them, had been the same book he had let Noctis read so many years ago and hidden inside it was a single arcade voucher that Noctis had used to mark the page he'd been on. Seeing that had been what had finally made Gladio break down, clutching the book to his chest as he fell to one knee. 

For a long time, he'd wondered what life would be like without a king to serve and protect. What good is a shield if there was no one there to cover, right? He ultimately had no idea what his place was in the universe without Noctis and had only devoted himself to doing the things that he thought Noctis would have asked had he remained alive like ensuring the safety of Insomnia's new population and making sure everything was being reconstructed in a timely manner. 

However, the nights found him avoiding his girlfriend more and more, lingering in his old place while mapping out all the spaces Noctis had once occupied. His side of the bed. The couch where he'd napped on once before. The towel he'd use whenever he came over. So many items had remained preserved for the past ten years, and he felt as though he was constantly wading through an archaeological dig site of their relationship. It was haunting, but he couldn't stop.

Eventually, he had to break things off, and his girlfriend understood. His mind had been elsewhere since Noctis had come back. He hadn't been able to return to the person he himself was. 

That's how he'd remained for an entire year while still making a point to regularly leave flowers on Noctis' tomb -usually sylleblossoms. Ignis also visits it periodically to clean it and offer a small prayer while Prompto had stuck up photos on the tomb walls from their past, which hadn't made it any easier to visit. It's hard looking at the casket then spy Noctis' smiling, youthful face on the walls, reminding him of lighter times when Noctis' biggest priority had been where he'd fall asleep that night. They'd all been too naive and in over their heads back then.

If only they could go back to those days…

But Gladio swears to himself repeatedly that he's done crying about it even as his eyes water and he lays a fresh bouquet of flowers over Noctis' casket. He has to wonder why he just can't let go sometimes. 

Though- his whole body tenses up when he hears quiet shuffling behind him. For a moment, he thinks it's just Ignis there to do his usual upkeep, but the footsteps feel lighter than his friend's as they move across the tomb. Then, a familiar voice breaks through the silence. 

"You always leave me sylleblossoms, but not once, have you ever brought me the flower you were named after." 

Gladio's heart starts to pound like crazy as he whips around, half-expecting to be confronted with empty air. Instead, he sees Noctis standing there, not as he remembers him but clean-shaven and dressed in a royal garment that he'd never seen him wear before. His hands are gloved and his hair nicely coiffed for once, presenting a regal image that he would not have associated with him ten years ago. 

It definitely is a sight to behold, and Gladio has to blink a dozen times to make sure he's not dreaming or hallucinating. He's certain he hadn't been drinking earlier.

"Nothing to say after a whole year? Not even a 'hey'?" Noctis teases, a small smiling pulling at his pale lips. 

"…what are you doing here?" is all he can say instead, still waiting for Noctis to just disappear and prove that he's just gone insane with grief. 

But the image of him won't budge, and Noctis approaches him until they're standing in front of each other. He then carefully removes one of his gloves and takes one of Gladio's hands in his until a ball of light glows between the ends of his fingers and Gladio's own palm. A single gladiolus stem appears once the light fades away, and Noctis then closes Gladio's fingers around it and squeezes them with his own hands. All Gladio can do after is marvel at the sheer amount of warmth from his touch.

"It's not bad to change things up once in a while." 

Gladio's eyes must be bulging out of their sockets by now, unable to comprehend what's going on. It can't be real. _It can't._ Noctis can't be there in front of him. He knows he won't stay there forever. He knows he'll disappear right away, yet the touch felt so real. Even the flower in his hand feels all too tangible. The smell and texture of it… 

"How are you-" he starts, but Noctis puts a finger to his mouth to silence him. 

He then draws the finger away before leaning up to kiss him gently and chastely, his mouth equally warm against his own. It takes every vestige of self-restraint not to reach out and grab him, pull him in, cling to him, never let him leave his sight once more.

But he knows that their time had already passed. Noctis belongs somewhere else now with his destined queen, and he's still left here to pick up all the pieces of Noctis' fallen kingdom. However, he wants to stubbornly live in this moment for a bit longer.

When a single tear starts to roll down his cheek, Noctis catches it with his thumb, and his smile is fond and gentle.

"I miss you," Gladio confesses, his voice shaking because he can't stand to hide behind the gruffness any longer. Noctis needs to hear this now more than ever.

"I know," Noctis says in return, his expression growing solemn, "but I'm always here with you." 

It's not enough. _It's never enough._ Against his better judgment, his arms suddenly move around Noctis, and he feels himself hugging his smaller frame to himself, feels the heat of him melting into him like he's really there and it's more intoxicating and addictive than he remembers him ever being. He tries to smell the faint clean scent of his hair once more, and run his fingers through the soft strands, relishing in the texture of it for a bit longer. 

It feels like he can spend an eternity in this embrace, but the renewed sound of footsteps jars him out of his reverie. This time, it really is Ignis at the door, and there's nothing but empty air in front of him and all around him when he blinks again. So he had been hallucinating all the time then, hadn't he? He almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it all, wondering how long he can tease himself with wishful thinking. 

Fortunately, Ignis is there to distract him. 

"A new flower this time?" he asks, and Gladio remembers just how good his sense of smell had gotten in the ten years since he went blind.

Even more jarring is the fact that there's still a single gladiolus stem clutched in his hand. Now, he really wants to laugh hysterically, but he just lets out a quiet snort instead.

"Figured I'd change things up a bit," he replies quietly before finally laying the gladiolus flower to rest on top of the sylleblossoms on the casket.

_'Rest well, my king.'_

\- The End - 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a.) Look, I don't know if gladiolus flowers even exist in this universe but fuck it. Artistic license.  
> b.) I gave up pretty fast trying to come up with names for all the people Gladio was banging on the side, but he genuinely liked them all in a way and treated them well.  
> c.) I feel like a part of me wanted to write a threesome, but that would have derailed things massively.  
> d.) Old books do indeed smell like ass.  
> e.) Just the sound of me gurgling into an open toilet lid because this took like 4 weeks to finish. That is way too much effort for shameless porn.  
> f.) Even though I included condoms in this at points, I realized it sort of defeats the purpose of using them when they keep swallowing each other's jizz...  
> g.) The original working title to this was lyrics from a Beyonce song. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed. This was a monstrous word dump, but I'm glad I finished. Now off to write something else... Have a lovely evening!


End file.
